


Swerve

by iridescentluck



Series: Randomly cooked up universe [1]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Eventual Romance, Fem!Jeonghan, M/M, Sliceoflife, fem!Jun, fem!Soonyoung, fem!jisoo, highschool!au, minor!wonhui
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-02-12 05:29:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12952332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iridescentluck/pseuds/iridescentluck
Summary: Choi Seungcheol has had a pretty regular life so far. School, cram centres, music, friends and the popular Yoon Jeonghan have kept his mind occupied and bustling. Two straight years of the same rhythm. Year 3 would be the same, right? Just more cramming, less music-ing and well, maybe, finally talking to Jeonghan.So he thought until he worked too hard in Year 2 finals and ended up in Class B. Next to Hong Jisoo. Who magically transferred from Class A to his new class. Who has cat eyes and bunny teeth and makes jokes at inappropriate times but apparently has tact.Well.----Seungcheol-centric at the beginning, gradually shifts to his dynamics with Jisoo.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> There will be a few slightly colourist/misogynist comments. Coming from a South Asian family/East Asian country (globalisation woohoo), I've definitely been a witness to comments inferring/encouraging these forms of discrimination. Plus, South Korea has its fair share of problems regarding this matter (tbh, it's prevalent globally, but I do think asian countries seem to have slightly less knowledge in this area). I want to make gradual positive changes in their characters rather than making them perfect and morally ideal from the very beginning. Whether I succeed or not is...welp, lolz, who knows.

Pants invaded his lung capacity. Knees threatening to give out, he hunched over to support his exhausted body. In hindsight, he should not have dashed from three streets away, shortening twenty minutes into five minutes, but. _Jisoo._ Where was Hong Jisoo? His eyes rummaged a thickening crowd, streams of students filing out of an ancient building: school, exam centre, Hong Jisoo was here somewhere, right? He lifted his head high to pinpoint her in the crowd. A push here, a shove there, forced to back away, but he advanced stubbornly. To find her, and tell her, and go home in unprecedented happiness or his very first heartbreak to his very first love.

“Cheol?” her question beckoned him to her, she who was taking long strides towards him, or trying in the sea of people. Cat eyes rounded into saucers, her hair, recently cut short, hovered above her shoulders, wind blowing it forward, not quite masking the perplexity in her face.

His breathing stabilized, heart falling into a slow rhythm. “I have something to say. To you.”

 

* * *

 

One summer, way back in elementary school, Seungcheol had made a surprise clown box for Soonyoung from scratch. They’d known each other for all of twenty days but Soonyoung had been so easygoing that Seungcheol found himself preparing a birthday present for the small girl. Of course, as an eight-year-old, his humour manifested itself in harmless pranks and vaguely crude jokes. Disguised as a normal, _not_ suspicious, checkered box, the paper clown that jumped out had moved Soonyoung to loud sobs.

Nothing as scary or shocking here, but rarely did Seungcheol find himself sitting next to a person who’d been a subject of his numerous conversations.

What the fuck was Hong Jisoo doing in his class?

 

 

“Wake up, you twerp! Your alarm woke me up too. Fuck you.”

The sleeping boy’s lids tore open to reveal sleep-ridden, fear-laced orbs. He tensed. The thumping of his heart recalled flashes of a zombie apocalypse but the unimpressed figure of his older brother suggested a different reality. As Seungcheol focused on calming down, his gaze pinned a poster on the ceiling. Wow. Black music staffs, drawn in graceful pen lines, greeted him in the shape of a flag. The South Korean flag. In a sharp moment, a certain persistent ringing now shut up, forcing exhaustion to become clearer in his mind and body.

“I’m going. If you sleep again, it’s not my fault.” A slam resonated throughout the mid-sized bedroom.

The sound stole a little bit of drowsiness from within Seungcheol, who got up blearily.

“Fuck,” he snapped before covering himself in his duvet.

The red-and-black checkered wallpaper had wished him a happy morning with a big ‘March 1’ printed on an A3 paper.

 

 

Jihoon the midget (he only came in the 165cm size) grumbled out a greeting. Seungcheol and he had met just two days ago, completing last-minute leftovers (homework) and un-violating the school uniform code. Jihoon, whose hair had been dyed blond on the last day of Year 2, now fancied itself jet black, almost unnatural. Unsuccessful in growing out mid-length locks, he’d had them trimmed neatly with a promise to work on it post-graduation. As usual, dark circles rimmed his eyes, no doubt spent slaving over cover arrangements. Dishing out a hi himself, Seungcheol wondered if his friend had thinned even more since Monday.

Seungcheol was in the process of building muscles, which was not proving as successful as he had hoped. Thankfully, his shoulders were a bit broader than average from a childhood spent at taekwondo dojangs. When would he look like a complete man? On the other hand, he had made no attempts to personalize his hair. To dye it back and forth would be too troublesome as an exam student this year. This one year and everything would change!

“I can’t wait to be a man,” he said, dragging his leaden feet.

“I thought you and Sujin had it done and over with,” said Jihoon as his mouth opened to a yawn.

“Losing my virginity doesn’t make me a man. It makes me an imprisoned man, waiting to explore the real world once more.” The reply was met with a snort.

“So you didn’t go through?”

“Nah. She backed out last minute.”

“Your weinus is too small for her to be scared. Should have shown her the real thing to calm her down.”

Seungcheol flipped his middle finger. “That’s not how it works.”

They chattered about their holidays, mundane conversation interspersed with the sounds of speeding cars and crowded buses. For them, this was a five-year-old routine: Jihoon waiting for Seungcheol and then walking to school together. They had met in middle school homeroom first year and cemented their friendship through a love of music and common dislike for numerous teachers. Their first summer as friends, they had spent ‘composing’ a ‘diss track’ aimed at a particular Jungyeon Lee, Biology Barbarian as was her given title. Now, in a band with two high school friends, Mingyu and Hansol, Seungcheol and Jihoon were leading interesting lives for sure.

“I think I’ll give Jeonghan a last go,” Seungcheol slipped said girl into the conversation, as was his habit according to all his friends. Despite the name, Yoon Jeonghan was the sickest, prettiest, most attractive wom---Jeonghan was a girl. A beautiful girl, yes. Intelligent? Check. Athletic? Check. Competitive? Check. Ambitious? Check. Rendered him speechless all the fucking time? Check, check, check.

Jihoon snorted, “How many times will you say that? Mingyu keeps tabs. Last you said so was your fortieth time.”

"I’m for real now okay. I don’t know. She gets me so jittery. I see her, my tongue decides to knot itself. I want to say something to her but she seems so out of my league. She’s just so—”

The midget side-eyed him. “Lol you’re whipped. She’s just another girl; Jeonghan isn’t that special.”

“Fuck off. She’s too tall for you, that’s all. For me, that height just…,” he gushed a little. _Slightly_ embarrassing. _But it’s true!_ Jeonghan stood at his shoulder. If he leaned in...

Another snort in response. “Go for Jisoo. She plays the guitar. You’ll actually have something to talk with her.”

“What the fuck? That’s Jeonghan’s best friend, dude, and I know shit about her _,_ ” said Seungcheol, nose wrinkled in disgust. _Trust Jihoon to talk weird shit._  Hong Jisoo happened to be Jeonghan’s best friend. She was quite pretty from the few times he’d noticed her. Excepting that, he had no fucking idea what sort of person she was.

“Not like you know shit about Jeonghan anyway. Just her height, her face and her school ranking. Ask Hansol and you’ll know all this about Jisoo real quick too.”

“Fuck off. Jeonghan’s different. Be more supportive, would ya?”

“Lmao. Don’t tell me you said the same thing to Sujin so she decided to dump you.”

They turned a corner here, and entered a familiar With Me store. This branch of the convenience store was established just last year. Given its proximity to school, it had become their go-to shop. Jihoon grabbed two bottles of water, throwing one to Seungcheol.

“That’s a whole ‘nother matter. It’s not like I had a thing for Sujin.”

“Asshole.”

“I don’t need that coming from you…When’s our first band practice?”

Irked, Jihoon said, “When Mingyu stops delaying. He hasn’t told me when he’s free. ‘Wait, lemme check if I have to attend another cram school!’ As if he needs that. Three consecutive years in Class A.”

Seungcheol chanced a quick glance at his friend. “He’s really worried. Mingyu wants to get into SKY so he can’t slip up.”

They checked out their items, Jihoon adding a packet of gums as well.  Chewing on a peppermint-flavoured gum, he said, “I know but he needs to give us his slots so I can draft up a schedule. We all have cram school. We’re all busy. He’s not the only one.”

Yawning, the taller of the two nodded in agreement. Finally, Year 3. Their life would be so packed from now. For one whole year…Studying, studying, more studying… _and music_ …And if he mustered up the courage…

The best thing, of course, was that the end to Hell inched closer.

 

 

Founded in 1957, Seoul Vision Co-educational High School (SVC) stood tall at eight stories and boasted various facilities such as a two-floor library, indoor swimming pool and separate fields for basketball, football and volleyball. Needless to say, it expanded to quite a large area. SVC conducted lessons from 8am to 5pm, serving free dinner to students who stayed till late at night. Students who returned from cram schools to pack in extra revision were also welcomed to enjoy the free meal, which usually consisted of rice, meat, vegetables and soup. During exam period, the library and canteen remained open 24/7 in order to accommodate diligent students.

Not that Seungcheol and his friends ever worked so tirelessly (except for Mingyu). His band was of the habit to practise in one of the spare classrooms until one had to leave for cram school. On days Soonyoung or Jun booked him, Seungcheol found himself roaming malls and parks until…well, cram school. He had maybe one or two friends who didn’t have extra tutoring on weekdays, but most likely they reserved such activity for the weekend. He knew people who gave zero fucks (read: not forced to give fucks) but they were only acquaintances.

Merely seeing the brick red colour of SVC bored Seungcheol, whose mind drifted off to his bed. His duvet was made of geese feathers, supremely comfortable and deserving of much love. His mother had bought a couple from Hungary a while back, before disappearing to another country.

“I swear if homeroom is with Andy Hwang, I’m gonna buy a new pillow,” crabbed Jihoon.

Seungcheol nodded in assent. Respecting teachers was moral and respectful etc etc etc, but why was there so little sympathy for high schoolers? _We’re the sleep-deprived creatures forbidden from sleeping to robotic reading._ “Wait for Hansol. He said he’d arrive by 50.”

“I wanna go in and sit already. God fuck I’m so tired. Think I can catch a few winks during the ceremony?”

“Unless it’s Matilda or Jeon Youkyoung, no.”

A duet of groans rose. Both of them were ready to collapse. They stood by the painted gates, leaning against the outer walls. Students filed in steadily, freshmen’s reluctance already strong. _Welcome to three years of hell._ Sluggishness pervaded the air, a prominent sign of the First Day™. There were few bright faces, however, which prompted questions of their sanity.

“5000 won she has a crush on a teacher.”

“Lol. 10000 won her parents argue too much.”

“Impossible. You still hate coming to school.”

“My room is soundproofed.”

Another yawn escaped Seungcheol, who proceeded to kick flat ground.  “Why do my parents work so much if they can’t soundproof my room?”

“Lol…Oh look,” Jihoon said, causing his friend to face him. “Your Jeonghan is coming.”

Seungcheol’s head whipped towards the direction of Jihoon’s gaze. As told, Jeonghan was coming his way—school’s way—no, she was headed towards school, because, because today was First Day™. _Fuck._

Jeonghan marched briskly, gaze stuck to her phone screen. High ponytail kept away locks from her face, which shone in its light bronze. A faded pink shaded her cheekbones; large, circular specs displaying a pair of downturned eyes. Long, slender legs complemented her ‘goddess’ look. They had muscles – perks of running track. They also stopped beside Seungcheol.

Heart running fast enough to earn a speeding ticket, Seungcheol coerced himself to look at Jihoon. In the meantime, his hand found itself running through his hair; eyes zooming in on the With Me store opposite school and darting to random points all the same. Jihoon burst into a silent cackle at his sudden jitters. Meanwhile, Seungcheol fished out his own phone, trying not only to cool down but also to appear less bothered by Jeonghan’s sudden appearance. On his right, Jihoon followed.

_‘I thought u were gna talk to her, become frns’_

_midgetoon 07:46_

  _‘i will this is just rly sudden fuck’_

_you 07:46_

_‘LMAO youve said the same shit for 2 yrs better luck with jisoo lol’_

_midgetoon 07:47_

_‘damn you midget. ok i’ll talk to her now’_

_you 07:47_

_‘no dammit WTF DO I SAY TO HER I WILL LOOK LIKE A CREEP’_

_you 07:47_

_‘Lol sry nt my prob. anyway, u r a creep. give the rght impression lolololol’_

_midgetoon 07:47_

_*middle finger*’_

_you 07:47_

_‘Accidentally bump into her or sum shit’_

_midgetoon 07:48_

_‘dis y u forever al1’_

_you 07:48_

_‘Lol im single cuz i hv dignity’_

_midgetoon 07:48_

Seungcheol huffed into his phone. _Useless twerp._ He tried his best to capture a glance of Jeonghan through his peripheral vision. _Ineffective._ The temptation to whip his head 90 degrees to the right and openly gawk was soaring, but he needed to be _cool_. Pretending to be engrossed in his phone, his hand raked through his hair, stopping at his nape to massage the area.

_Say something, bro! Like who she’s waiting for, or introduce yourself! ‘Hi I’m Seungcheol. I’m in a band.’ No, shit, too awkward. ‘Don’t you wanna go in?’ Rude. ‘So, I’ve seen you—_

“Sorry, Jeong! I would’ve got here earlier if it weren’t for Hansol and his mess of a bag!” Hong Jisoo interrupted his thought process, appearing with a mild grin on her face and an apologetic Hansol by her side.

 _Hell._ A step away, Jihoon’s chuckles rolled out in a low tone. “We waited for 10 minutes and you didn’t even say ‘hi’,” arrived a devilish whisper, coated thickly in amusement over Seungcheol’s misery.

Their mutual friend stepped away from the chattering girls and muttered a quick apology. “My bag zipper was open so when I said hi to Jisoo, everything fell out.” Hansol Vernon Chwe had dark brown hair and pale skin; stood a few centimetres short of Seungcheol; and attracted a fair bit of attention for his mixed race. Seungcheol and he had been classmates in Year 1, becoming fast friends in the first semester on account of sitting together. Finding out that the shorter boy played the drums, it had been easy for the middle school duo to draft him into the then-newborn band.

Seungcheol’s ears picked up few signals as his eyes trained themselves on Jeonghan’s departing figure. Having met her best friend, the two girls in question strode towards the school gates without any signs of dread.

“Lol. You probably bounced your way to her. Let’s go in. Lover Boy here needs distraction from his failure.”

Hansol chuckled, “Two years, dude, step up your game.”

“You’ve been doing great with Jisoo!” snapped Seungcheol, sarcasm in words and disappointment in heart.

“I don’t like her that way, plus Seokmin is running after her,” the calm reply caught both Seungcheol and Jihoon’s attention. Seokmin happened to be this sociable dork that ran in the same crowd as Jeonghan and Jisoo. The trio were a chummy gang, courtesy of Year 1 class arrangements.

“He’d ruin the group dynamics if he confesses,” Jihoon said.

“Jisoo’s really close with him. She might return his feelings you know.”

“I can’t believe Lee Seokmin has a more eventful love life than me,” groaned Seungcheol.

Changing into their slippers, the trio groaned at the sight of the stairs, school hall on the second floor.

“I’ll handle waking up early but these stairs,” Hansol grumbled.

“Lol. It takes you 30 minutes to get out of bed. These stairs are definitely not the problem.”

Seungcheol laughed, “In Hansol’s defence, I bet even Hercules couldn’t—” His hands shot up to fuss over his hair; his heart caught in itself, tripping over each second ever so pathetically. In front of him was a cheerful Jeonghan, chatting away with friends.

Feeling a nudge, he looks down. “Huh?”

“Did you like the final track? Wanna make any changes before uploading on soundcloud?” Seungcheol could single out the annoyance in Jihoon’s questions.

Trying his best to focus on a track they’d worked on over the holidays, he said, “Uhh, maybe we should work on the transition between the first verse and chorus? It still sounded a bit choppy.”

“Kind of suits our theme,” Hansol said before getting swallowed by the sea of people. “Though Mingyu did say there are better ways to express choppiness,” he added as he popped up once more.

That was the last of the conversation Seungcheol heard before his attention permanently wandered off towards Jeonghan. He could almost, _almost_ see her with her hair open, flowing in the sky, wind caressing her cheeks gently, sweetly; a grin so bright that it rivalled sunshine and happiness so pure a baby felt robbed. She was so _goddamned_ beautiful.

“Wooow, Choi Seungcheol has officially lost it,” the Obnoxious™ voice cut into Seungcheol’s fantasy. First and foremost, Mingyu’s unimpressed face entered his line of vision. The six feet and some giant sat in front of him, turned around just to scoff at his face. The nerd of the band, his skin remained as dark as ever, in spite of staying indoors the most.

“What kick do you guys get out of making fun of me?” hissed Seungcheol, gaze darting back to the talking Jeonghan, who sat a row ahead, three seats to the right.

“Two years of pining, three girlfriends in between, and you’ve spoken to her NEVER. Wooooow, impressive as fuck. How can anybody laugh at _The_ Choi Seungcheol?” Mingyu’s poker face incited uproarious laughter from Jihoon and Hansol, both of whom vigorously nodded in agreement.

“I’ve never had the privilege of being her classmate, okay!”

Jihoon snorted, “I have had the ‘privilege’ as you like to call it. She’s nothing special. Better luck with her ‘bestie’.”

“Don’t fuck with Jisoo,” Hansol whispered with such venom that the other three gawked with jaws wide open. “It’s Jisoo,” he shrugged. “Don’t mess her up. It’s surprisingly easy.”

“What is this relationship development? Are you hiding something from us?”

“‘I don’t like her that way!’ The fuck.”

“Lol, defo should’ve seen this coming. You don’t hang out with a girl every weekend and catch no feelings.”

“What? Noooo. She’s a good friend, like a sister. I’ve just…” Hansol looked discomfited, shuffling in his seat, feet twiddling even. “Shit happens you know. Anyway, why would hanging out with a girl every weekend cause me to like her?”

The conversation shifted to another direction, all about boys vs girls, stereotypes and teenage take on everything. When the bell rang twice, the head prefect stepped up on stage and shushed the students, signaling the commencement of a new academic year.

 

 

Even though Soonyoung had cried herself hoarse, she managed to stifle her sobs when Seungcheol’s expression twisted into that of hurt. Her tiny eyes widened just a bit, and she hurriedly lifted the box, holding it close and lying through her teeth, “I love it!” She’d stuttered, a frown threatening to overtake her forced smile.

It was then Seungcheol had determined to keep this nine-year-old stranger forever.

“Hi. I’m Jisoo.”

Rumours spoke the truth: Hong Jisoo was indeed beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A product of despair over the lack of cheolsoo fics. I have the whole plan ready. Hoping posting chaps will motivate me to finish and be less picky over my writing (I've re-written this twice without finishing :/) Also, how do you decide whether the notes is at the end or the beginning? Im just doing it all randomly.


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos, bookmarks and comment!!!! Having ppl acknowledge my work (however tiny the acknowledgement) made me feel giddy with happiness <3 thank you for the support!!!

 

The classroom was full of noise and cluster. Students crossed rows of desks and equally hectic classmates to reach their assigned seats, a piece of information conveyed though a neat drawing on the blackboard.

Seungcheol struggled to understand this weird, twisted, mangled, bizarre reality of fate.

“Hi,” she spoke first. “I’m Jisoo.” _Everyone knows._

“Uhh, umm, Seungcheol,” he pushed out. Astonishment clouded his brain. “This is Class B, right?”

“Yup, guess you know me then,” she chuckled.

His head dropped slowly to indicate a nod. “You’re…uhh…friends with Hansol.” _Jeonghan._

Her lips shaped into an ‘o’. “Seungcheol? Jihoon, Mingyu…?”

“Guess you know me too, hm?” _Does this mean Jeonghan also…?_

“I play the guitar too,” a blush overcame her cheeks. “Not as well as you of course.” His surprised expression prompted her to add, “I listen to your sound cloud, and you perform in school festivals, yeah?”

“A bit, yeah.”

“Didn’t expect to ever meet you.”

“Hm?’

“Oh…uh, I know the rest of them but we never met, so I sort of assumed…”

“That we would be strangers forever?”

“Yeah, that.”

They settled into awkward silence. As students began settling down, groans slithered up walls and corridors; a combined result of assigned seats and First Day™. However, every few seconds, hi-fives and small whoops of cheers reigned supreme. When Jihoon and Hansol had shared their class results with Seungcheol, the latter had been over-excited to sit with them. Now, glancing at Jihoon who sat three rows away near the door, all energy in his body vanished. _Shit!_ On top of that, he’d been so taken aback by his seatmate that the thought of checking Hansol’s seat had left him. Huffing, he hoped that Hansol had finished his toilet business and was headed towards the classroom now.

“Jisoo!” Along with the said girl, Seungcheol twisted around to catch sight of the owner of the voice: Lee Seokmin. The well-known lively boy was flashing a bedazzling grin, hands up to nose waving furiously at his friend. His front bangs rested a few millimetres above his brows, pointy nose drooping just a little, eyes stretched into lines and teeth, _so much teeth,_ exposed without hesitation; _freak; it’s the First Day™; he lost his mind?_

The pair of friends launched into excited conversation, prompting Seungcheol to awkwardly shift until he began filling in his drawer with year-long necessities: textbooks, notebooks, stationery and a plump cushion. The plump cushion elicited a sigh from him. He scanned the view outside the window (a good two columns away), willing time to speed up, holidays to return. Blinds pulled up, the transparent windows exhibited the approaching spring; rows and rows of yellow forsythias, cherry blossoms popping up here and there, a sky not quite blue, not quite grey.

“What a nice surprise,” Hansol’s drawl attracted Seungcheol’s attention. Grins graced both their faces, with Hansol’s widening at the sight of Jisoo. “A freaking _nice_ surprise.”

“Took you long enough. I almost lost my sanity thinking you’d be in Croatia or someplace with Jihoon.” (It didn’t pass him that Hansol’s excitement grew from seeing Jisoo.)

Chuckling, the newcomer threw his bag down on the floor, out of habit than malicious intent. “Who’s in our homeroom, man? What sane person grouped us together?”

Jisoo and Seokmin both paused mid-sentence to welcome Hansol. The three of them were friends, random situations in the past having driven them to each other. Hansol formally introduced Seungcheol to them. _All of Jeonghan’s friends except for_ her _._

“Wait. Don’t you have a thing for Jeonghan?” The question Seokmin blurted thoughtlessly transformed into laughter when Seungcheol began choking on thin air. “Shit, I was just pulling your leg,” giggles erupted out of his thin lips, which finally settled on each end of his cheeks. A shiver of horror travelled down Seungcheol's spine. 

Seungcheol’s ears had barely returned to their original colour when Jisoo added in a teasing lilt, “Didn’t know you had a thing for perfect girls.” 

They rouged again. Before Seungcheol could offer a word of protest, a thin, gangly man with glasses delicately perched on his nose entered. Immediately, the rowdy class quietened.

“Morning, everyone. I’m Mr Hwang, your homeroom and maths teacher. This is my third year teaching in this school, but I’ve been a teacher for thirteen years. I expect self-disci— ” At this point, Seungcheol tuned out. He didn’t know a single teacher who hadn’t preached the same stuff in the fifteen years he’d been a student. As far as he was aware, kindergarten teachers also said the same thing: self-discipline, concentration, blah blah blah. Very creative indeed.

While trying to stifle an incoming yawn, his gaze wandered off to his seatmate, who was biting her knuckles, a pair of slits baring eyes at the teacher.

“Bored?” he found himself asking.

Jisoo started a little, then realising the question, put down her fist and nodded. Even though she was facing Hwang, her attention was clearly on him.

“You can look at me. I’m not sure pretending to pay attention is necessary.” Half the class was obviously sleeping. “This is not Class A.”

“I know, but I need to make a good impression. I’ll be asking for some last-minute tips from him,” she replied, quickly masking a growing grin with a subdued smile.

“Ooh, a rebel,” laughed Seungcheol, volume barely above a whisper’s. He followed her example, noticing with a grimace that Hwang’s mouth was still open. “You been taught by him before?”

“No, I’ve had worse.”

“What?”

“Heard of Soomin Jung?”

“Suffered in her hands too. Year 1.”

“Same, year 1. You were in the infamous Class C?”

Hwang clapped his hands, rousing several from a nap. Ordering everyone to take out a notebook and jot down their schedules, he sent a mild threat to anyone inattentive.

Copying his schedule, Seungcheol finally said, “We weren’t that bad, just a little noisy.”

Jisoo chuckled, “Didn’t someone nearly burn down one of the labs?”

“Not even close. Jaehyun just set the Bunsen burner on fire.” Seungcheol paused. “Which is ridiculous in retrospect but—” His seatmate’s sudden giggles surprised him, prompting him to take a proper look at her.

Braids neatly hanging by each side of her face, it was easy to observe Jisoo’s most prominent features. Almost-feline eyes rimmed with double lids on top and supported by aegyosal, thicker bottom lip and a smooth nose bridge. There was a little chub in her cheeks which made her that much cuter. In short, Hong Jisoo was a doll, especially what with her thin build and short height. Recalling rumours of her numerous confessors, Seungcheol completely approved of their taste.

“Sorry, I just remembered this one time when Jeonghan confused a thermometer with a test tube,” the mention of his crush gave rise to a horde of butterflies in Seungcheol’s stomach. The colourful insects flew high and low, left and right, back and forth, until his hand rose to run through his hair. “Not because you casually waved off the burning of a Bunsen burner.”

“Oh, why?”

Breathing more evenly now, Jisoo threw him a funny look. “Why what?”

“Why she…Um, no, uh,” he internally groaned. Why did he become so nervous at the mere mention of her? Jeonghan wasn’t even here!

“I didn’t peg you as the type to get so jittery about your crush,” again, as another groan invaded Seungcheol’s insides, Jisoo burst into giggles. “That did _not_ happen, but she’s often sleepy because she studies late into the night. So Jeong does a lot of other questionable things. Real nerd.” The grin that she gave Seungcheol made him wonder if she was secretly a devil. _Nah, it’s just a little teasing._

The conversation faded. Once all students copied down their schedules, Hwang began handing out several notices, including this year’s calendar. Since they were about to take the public exam, a handbook full of important dates and guidelines was distributed to each student. Finally, they were to select members for class committee.

“Hong Jisoo for secretary!” a suggestion was loudly announced, followed by a chorus of cheers from a bunch of boys. “If she’s recording our activities, I wouldn’t mind volunteering for everything!” Laughter rang across the classroom.

Seungcheol’s brows rose. His mind traced back to his old class. They definitely did not resort to teasing newbies. He cast Jisoo a glance, who, as he’d suspected, seemed perturbed by the attention. Shaking his head, he thought about his former classmates. They’d been a tight bunch. Not exactly friends but they’d backed each other up in many situations, particularly homework- _assistance_ situations.  He didn’t deny that he’d form some sort of bond with his new classmates, but little things made him aware of the differences that would take place in his life from now.

“But guys, I wanna be the secretary. Don’t you wanna see me sexily write stuff?” deadpanned Seokmin, standing up. Surprised, Seungcheol turned around to see the boy, whose pokerface morphed into an exaggerated expression of wiggly brows and massive grin.

The class burst into a mesh of guffaws and snickers. Seungcheol himself could not suppress his chuckles.

“Quiet down,” Hwang’s voice boomed across the room, a smile nonetheless present on his face. “We haven’t even chosen the president yet.”

A round of discussions sparked. Seungcheol did not participate because he had zero knowledge about majority of the people here. It occurred to him that he could push forward Hansol’s and Jihoon’s names to screw with them a little, but decided against it, feeling sleepier by the second. His face was flat down on his desk before he could process who won presidency.

When a semblance of consciousness entered him, it was thanks to a series of nudges which threatened to shock him out of his body.

“Hansol, what the fuck?” he swore at the familiar sight of his friend.

“Sleep at home. School’s over,” chuckled Hansol, lifting his starry-designed school bag over his shoulder. He tumbled forward a little when a classmate accidently ran into him.

Rubbing the corners of his eyes, Seungcheol threw his upper half down on the desk again, slowly picking himself off of the desk. His eyes darted towards a clock above the blackboard, which read ‘1:35’. The only good thing about first days was that it ended early. Groaning at the thought of using his legs, he comforted himself by thinking of his bed.

The two friends remained silent as they moved towards the door, where Jihoon stood waiting. Hansol bid a few classmates goodbye, Seungcheol offering nods. According to routine, the trio passed by Class A to pick up Mingyu.

Seungcheol perked up. Calling out to Mingyu, his gaze swiped the area once to single out a certain somebody.

“Jeonghan usually sits near the windows in the third row,” a smooth, peanut butter-like voice jolted him out of his investigation. “Perks of being tall, y’know.”

Seungcheol traced the voice to its owner: an amused Jisoo with a restrained grin. He heard a few sniggers around him, courtesy of his friends and a certain Lee Seokmin.

“I-I’m just looking for Mingyu,” he dished out before calling for said giant. The group of classmates heard a dismissive response, followed closely by an ‘ok, I’m seriously done now!’.

“As you say, Sergeant Lover!” Seokmin said seriously, hand lifting to a salute. Breaking into a fit of giggles with Jisoo, the duo made their way towards Jeonghan, who actually was sitting near the window in the third row.

Mingyu, the fucking slowpoke, finally came out with his backpack slung over one shoulder. _Of course, after my undeserved humiliation._ He threw a look of confusion at each of the boys: scowling Seungcheol, hooting Hansol and jeering Jihoon.

Reunited, the band, in all sorts of confusion, began heading towards the school gates.

“What happened back there?” Mingyu asked.

Hansol’s gate of chuckles opened again, eliciting an audible groan from Seungcheol, which only intensified with Jihoon’s cackles.

“Um, explanation?”

“Not important.”

“Jisoo and the fool roasted Seungcheol Choi.”

“Did not!”

“More like Jisoo dumped the kerosene and Seokmin dropped the match,” Hansol doubled over at his own analogy, recalling the incident that had transpired few minutes back.

Sighing, Seungcheol mumbled, “They figured out I have a crush on Jeonghan.”

Mingyu rolled his eyes and said, “Like it matters. You’re not gonna make a move ‘cause her besties know.”

Seungcheol grumbled before retaliating, sparking a round of senseless bickers none of them needed. It was embarrassing that this was a regular occurrence, that in Seungcheol’s world of pure badassery a girl named Jeonghan shamed his reputation, at least in front of his friends, and her friends. But he couldn’t quit. There was something about her that he couldn’t ignore. So, he would suffer the humiliation a little bit. He had faith that by the end of Year 3, he would have a special place in Jeonghan’s heart, much like she had in his. And hey, tomorrow was a new day.

Not that he’d been aware of the bomb Mingyu was to drop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a bunch of things including high school-centred, romance shoujo mangas, mainly Kimi ni Todoke, but loosely. :p My favourite shoujo manga is 'High School Debut'. :)))))))) Anyone else read mangas :))))) I'm scheduling updates to be on Fridays until second semester begins (I'm in uni, 2nd sem starts in 2nd week of Jan). Probs won't be able to update next Fri though cuz of work :(


	3. Three

Seungcheol sighed at a mountain of assignments. His alone. He let out another sigh at a similar pile belonging to Hansol. “Isn’t this just the third day? Does it get worse every year?” But his questions fell on deaf ears. Hansol, gripping a pen tightly, was using it less for assignments than as substitute for his drumsticks. Earphones jammed into his ears, his pen tapped lightly across the desk in strange, rhythmic patterns.

Seungcheol groaned. Moral support was so _scarce._ The one friend around him was mentally absent, while the midget-and-giant duo remained physically missing. Staying behind after school to finish homework was Mingyu’s idea, but the mastermind himself had disappeared when they had gone to pick him up. As for Jihoon, he went home early with a promise to send band practice schedule by nightfall. So, here lingered Brian May and Roger Taylor, abandoned by Freddie Mercury and John Deacon.  Not that any of them were as great as the legendary Queen members.

“Hansol, how the fuck do you do this? Hansol,” he prodded the said boy (who was completely immersed in whatever song his phone was blasting) frustrated by yet another question related to simultaneous quadratic equations.

Upon feeling the nudges, the drummer yanked out one earphone and asked what was wrong.

“This question’s what’s wrong. Are you gonna start on your work anytime soon?”

Hansol’s carefree attitude displayed itself through his reply, “One more song left, then I’ll start. It’s my favourite Clash playlist.”

He was ready to dive back into the world of epic music when Seungcheol frantically stopped him, “Dude, help, Math. Your grades are better than mine!”

Taking a quick look at the question, lips pursed, Hansol said, “No idea.”

“It’s your homework too!”

“I’ll bullshit. Recommend you do the same. We’ve done it two years. What’s another?”

Seungcheol watched helplessly as his friend shoved back the earphone in his ear. While it was true that rubbishing homework was an option, as an exam student this year, he’d had half a mind to put more effort. Examining the mountain in front of him, Seungcheol raised his middle finger, deciding to _just fuck it_. Getting just-average grades (the only kind he could achieve) wasn’t worth the mental drainage.

 

 

The timetable was sent at 23:48 exact.

 _The hell._ Seungcheol groaned at Jihoon’s familiar handwriting, which had scribed a practice session almost every day. His mind traced back to the load of homework he’d been assigned today, which intensified his groan. Then there was cram school too.

He considered texting Jihoon to renegotiate the practice schedule but recalled how cranky the midget got around this time. _Fuck it._ He could discuss this with the band tomorrow after school. Shit. Didn’t they have PE?

Pulling himself up to pack his gym clothes, Seungcheol was distracted by a loud ‘ding!’. God. He’d forgot to silence the damned device. Feeling around his bed to pick up his phone, the message he’d received triggered him to do that thing. That thing – heart pounding, stomach fluttering, head kind of itching because goodness did his hand need to run through his hair. He was choking on something non-existent, _his_ existence tripping over a hurdle that had not been in the track at the start of the race.

_‘A N B PE TGT AMXNCGDJKAOWD LUCKY BASTARD JEONGHAN UNNIEEEEE’_

_tenten 23:55_

_Dammit, dammit, dammit!_

Seungcheol had to put his clothes in the washer.

 

 

“Woah duuuude, you look like shit,” Hansol said the very first thing the next morning.

“I wonder,” grunted Seungcheol, taking his seat.

After throwing in his clothes into the washing machine, he’d had to stay awake another two hours to put them in the dryer and then hang them to avoid any odour. Despite going to bed right away, he’d tossed and turned until...well, a certain hour that obviously did him no good.

To his bad luck, even though he’d arrived relatively early and was all prepped to sleep a little before Hwang came, Soonyoung decided it was the day to destroy his life. (Though, that was what happened when you had a faux sister.)  

“CHOI SEUNGCHEOL HOW DARE YOU SLEEP I AM PANICKING I AM JEALOUS ALL NIGHT I HAVE NOT SLEPT A WINK IN MY BURNING ENVY AND YOU! YOU!”

Seungcheol’s eyes flung open at his friend’s caps lock accusation. They searched frenetically for the source of this commotion, hoping to shut it before his secret (only a handful of people knew about his crush, it was secret _enough_ ) was broadcast to the whole school. Even in his state of drowsiness, he was aware of how embarrassing that would be.

He didn’t have to spend too much time worrying. Soonyoung, tiny as she was, marched at top speed towards his desk, fire in her eyes, seeming larger than life (she always did), taking long, harsh strides. Greeting an unperturbed Hansol who was, again, too immersed in whatever song his fingers were drumming, she plopped down on a vacant seat that belonged to a currently absent Jisoo.

“It’s not fair,” she whined in a volume considerably lower. Seungcheol could feel a lot of eyes on them so he wasn’t exactly grateful even though Soonyoung had the sense not to continue shouting. “Forget your crush! I’ve admired her from the moment she stepped into the school building!” Her whispers were fierce but interspersed with moments of frustration. “While you were screwing around with Youkyung and Hyerin and all those other girls, I recognised _her_ for her worth!” Here, Soonyoung faked a few tears, dramatically draping herself over a vacant desk of the currently absent Jisoo.

“Okay, first, I didn’t screw around. It’s not my fault they thought I was charming. Second, I was three—” he stopped at the appearance of a currently present Jisoo. “Uh hey!” he said in panic, heart straining against his chest as fear spread all over within him, afraid that she would gather more embarrassing information about him. Nothing but how his crush began could top his crush on her best friend. _Embarrassing._

To his surprise, Jisoo returned a greeting shyly. _Huh?_ Was this the same girl who’d teased him on First Day™? Granted they hadn’t made much conversation since then because of all the assignments they had to complete in class, so it wasn't like he knew her much.

Soonyoung did a 180 turn and gawked at him. Right. He hadn’t told her about the seating arrangements. “Soonyoung, my seatmate Jisoo. Jisoo, my friend Soonyoung.” Not that the latter needed an introduction to arguably the school’s most popular girl.

As his firecracker friend stood up to let the pretty girl sit, Seungcheol could feel her glares, masked by a bright smile directed at Jisoo. He couldn’t fully blame her. Soonyoung had raved about Jeonghan and Jisoo since the beginning of time but had never scored an opportunity to talk to them. Giving it a little more thought, he decided Soonyoung should be more thankful seeing that she was chattering with Jisoo right this very moment.

Before he knew, Seungcheol’s eyes closed, and a sense of serenity invaded him.

 

 

It was during Maths that Jisoo made a remark about the morning’s events, “Soonyoung’s rather nice.”

Initially, the comment had escaped him because of this one song whose title eluded him, but his brain managed to process his friend’s name, albeit a second late. Tearing his gaze away from a mathematical question (completely unaware of what it was about), he faced Jisoo, who was incidentally looking at him. It startled him to see her feline eyes so up close and personal.

Steadily peeling off her gaze, she said, “Have you been friends long?”

“Ten years and some,” he replied fondly. As annoying as Soonyoung proved to be on a very regular basis, she had fixed herself as a permanent part of his life, enlivening where dullness peaked. “What about you and…” A piece of him wanted to wreak havoc due to the rouging of his ears, the butterfly uprising that threatened with nausea and his hand that ran through his hair. With how frequently he performed the last action, he was sure he looked like a douchebag (who cared if Jihoon thought him to be one?).

“I-” Jisoo halted, sent him a baffled look, and laughed _loudly._ Realising her error, her lips shut immediately into a thin line and eyes trained themselves on a set of mathematic problems to be finished by a telling bell ring. Forty-something set of eyes zoomed in on her, in addition to the teacher’s, which shot daggers. Jisoo face reddened to a deeper shade than that of Seungcheol’s ears, lightening only a half-hour later.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “I just,” deep inhale, quiet exhale, “can’t believe how—” She had to bite her lip now to _goodness_ , she seemed a second away from bursting into giggles for whatever reason. As sorry as Seungcheol felt, he couldn’t help but pass judgement regarding her (lack of) sanity. Indeed, he felt sorry after hearing her full statement. “How flustered you get over a crush. You don’t seem the type.”

His ears flushed once more. _God._ Was this going to be routine?

 

 

He looked good. Fine even. He never looked less than great in sportswear, even if it happened to be school-issued uniform. Seungcheol was a looker, manly without trying. He’d been complimented many times by his mum’s associates (whom he suspected to be creepy cougars on the lookout for prey) and several schoolmates. Yes, yes. Seungcheol could do this: impress Jeonghan without looking desperate.

“Lemao,” _he spoke out loud, didn’t he?_ “Your desperation is obvious. Hansol, don’t bother defending this oaf.”

“What! Seungcheol’s not bad. His desperation rate is only 6 outta 10,” following the saracastic response, Seungcheol heard a sharp high-five.

Groaning, he banged his head into his locker once. He was gonna woo Yoon Jeonghan for sure. “Where’s Mingyu?” he asked after a brief while. “He wasn’t around lunch either.”

“Probably cooking up excuses to ditch practice,” Jihoon returned a sharp remark, each word dipped in ire and frustration.

“C’mon dude,” drawled Hansol from where he was tying his shoelaces. “Gyu’s just stressed over entrance exams. Y’know how important it’s to him.”

“I do. So, I wish he’d value our music as much,” slamming his own locker, Jihoon stormed out of the changing rooms, turning several curious heads.

“How much can those two fight?” Seungcheol wondered, to which he received an affirmative grunt from Hansol. Rolling his eyes at the childish spat, he checked himself out in the mirror once more. He needed to look his best to feel his best to do his best to acquaint himself with the most beautiful person in Seoul.

He would've cared less had he known his friends were going to fuck him up anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for disappearing. been working extra and started tutoring so my time's been limited. i'd also heard about jonghyun's passing away and had decided to lay off of kpop for a while. i'm back for now. thanks to everyone who commented and read!! i hadn't thought about gyuhan actually but that's :) tenks :))))) this is supposed to be part of a series and i hv plans for guy's own story (a oneshot most likely) and jeong wasn't involved but...still, tenks for the idea :)))))) i might make a poll later (waaaaaaaaayyyy later) about this. thank you everyone!! happy holidays!!!


	4. Four

They were exiting from the rooms when Mingyu dashed in.  He arrived almost tripping over himself, appearance absolutely dishevelled. In spite of how common it was for him to be a clumsy goofball, rarely did distress emanate from Mingyu’s very being.

Seungcheol met Hansol’s eyes just as their giant friend rushed past them without sparing a glance. They held a brief, non-verbal conversation, to which the conclusion was to leave the matter alone for now and make inquiries after school.

Out in the gym slash basketball court, girls and boys had each occupied one part of the area. Jihoon was stretching near a backboard at the other end. Hansol launched into a conversation that Seungcheol couldn’t invest in fully.

Running his hand through his hair, he scanned the area for Jeonghan, hoping to get a glimpse of her. _Goodness,_ he thought, _why do they all look the same?_ After surveying for a few more seconds, he found her. As his throat dried, he raked his fingers over his hair. Jeonghan was laughing at something some random creature had said, eyes and nose crinkling. She leaned on her right to stretch out her left leg, arms following the latter’s direction. Her lips parted to make a repl—

“Fuck! Where’re you looking, man?” Hansol exclaimed right after Seungcheol crashed into him from behind.

Sending him a quick apology, Seungcheol returned his attention to his crush. She was now on waist stretches, still talking animatedly with one friend or another. Even from his state of distraction, he could hear Hansol iterate a few curses, face palming from his antics. _Sorry,_ his subconscious said from…somewhere. All he could see was Yoon Jeonghan. Talking, laughing, smiling, glowing, breathing, stinking—what?

Seungcheol whipped around to see his two friends doubling over in laughter, Jihoon clutching his stomach.

“How much of a mushy goo does she make you?” Jihoon pushed out eventually, managing to control himself a lot better than a still-roaring Hansol.

“What? I-how-you-did you just manipu-no, what? How?”

“Duude. It's not hard when you're in some daze,” chuckles followed suit. “You’re so weird when it comes to her.” Hansol continued uttering a string of profanities, still releasing sputters of giggles.

“Whipped,” grinned Jihoon. “The sort of shit I tell you not to do.”

Seungcheol flipped the finger at both of them, beginning his own stretches. He only glanced Jeonghan’s way three or four times throughout.

 

They were discussing where to get the best churros when a forgotten Mingyu entered.  The tall boy was about to sit down with them when he was reminded to warm-up first (‘c’mon bro, we don’t want a repeat of Kim Taehyung’s torn muscles’), a friendly order he obeyed almost robotically.  

Joining the small group, Mingyu’s attention was evidently elsewhere. He made a few remarks here and there, but posed considerably fewer questions than usual. The conversation slowly steered towards music, much as usual.

Seungcheol broached the topic of their schedule, “Daily practice is gruelling. Remove a few, Ji.” Jihoon’s sharp glare made him wince, but he wasn’t Choi Seungcheol if he gave up out of fear. “We’re taking our CSAT this year. We have to give up a few.”

The glare fortified and Jihoon all but growled, “We _can’t._ ”

“Actually,” it was Hansol who spoke up, sounding wary of possible fights. “It’s best we take rests in between. I don’t think practising while we’re shit tired would help.”

“Skills don’t improve magically.”

“Sol’s right. They don’t improve either when we have to juggle homework, sleep, cram school and social life all at once.”

“We have to perform at the school festival! We need to do way better than last year. We could get signed,” the anger in Jihoon’s voice was steadily growing, and maybe Seungcheol agreed partially. Getting signed was the ultimate goal. With how much their popularity had grown...

However, “Practising every day is in-fucking-feasible. Cut us some slack. My parents have been sending me emails of new cram schools.” _God, why were they more businessmen than parents?_ He felt a comforting pat from Hansol.

Seconds passed. Jihoon’s face was storming with thunders and lighting, a big fat ‘ _fuck you!’_ screaming at the rest of them, but inhaling deeply, he said, “Take Saturdays off.”

“No,” _the fuck, Gyu?_ Mingyu, who’d stayed mum so far, who’d been toying with his fingers or whatever shit he did, was staring Jihoon right in the eye.

“Um, dude, I don’t know about you but Cheol and I—”

“I’m quitting the band.”

 

“Hell,” muttered Hansol from beside Seungcheol. The two friends gawked at the scene in front of them, joined by fifty-some school mates.

Students who had been struggling for a ball from designated baskets stood rooted a couple steps away from the scuffle, gazes trained on the stars of this impromptu movie like toddlers stared at multi-coloured butterflies. A few details seemed sharpened for some exaggeration effects: the lights that hung high up in the ceilings suddenly stretched low until they pixelated, the dull backboards towered over on each end of the court like a monster whose claws were reaching for prey, the generally sharp hues of the walls became mundane, washed-out. Only one thing screamed: the brawl.

In a state of astonishment, insults made by both parties flew over Seungcheol’s head, mind preoccupied with seeing rather than processing. Even when Jihoon managed to one-up Mingyu with a knee-kick to the groin (the mind did process the amount of pain that would give), and Mingyu struck back with his large fist. In fact, everything, _everything_ only connected after Seungcheol, in complete autopilot, peeled Mingyu off of Jihoon (who lay on the floor ready to jump and hit) and dragged him to the door, which opened to let in—

 _Nam Woohyun and Kwon Yuri._ Fear sprouted within Seungcheol upon noticing the most ruthless PE teachers in school, and sadly, his mind decided to return to full, proper consciousness. 

“Care explaning?” the boys’ coach said first.

 

They did plenty of explaining at the principal’s office, and also heard about the great student Kim Mingyu happened to be.

While the principal, in all her ancient glory, expressed disappointment over Mingyu’s misconduct (‘As one of our brightest students, this was not expected of you, Mr Kim.’), Seungcheol caught up on the full impact of the latter’s confession. And the anger simmered.

He had a vague impression of Mingyu apologising, Jihoon apologising, Hansol apologising—

“Mr Choi!” the principal’s shrill voice grated on his ears. _Dammit._

“Ma’am, I was only tryin—” Wrong move. Her lips curled in displeasure. Seungcheol cursed himself. Rarely did he try and cross grown-ups, who always seemed to have a stick up their asses, but a kind of haze seemed to be interfering with his logical thinking, spreading slowly inside of him. From the pits of his stomach to just behind his lens. “I’m sorry,” he said with his head down.

The floor stared at him fervently, flaunting the vastness of a carpet so hideous it evoked a sense of nausea within him, a feeling that consumed him in its boiling disgust.

By the time they were dismissed, Seungcheol felt a weird itch to punch something, somebody. The principal had let them off with a rather heavy warning, promising to ban them from performing should they start a fight again. This only aggravated the haze consuming Seungcheol.

Jihoon immediately stormed off.

“Guys, I—”

“Fuck off,” Seungcheol hissed before stomping away himself.

 _Where did that come from?_ He didn’t know. One moment he was confused, then all he could feel was anger. Dammit. Just. So much _anger._

When he arrived in his classroom after picking up his clothes from the gym, Jihoon had just been departing. No exchange. 

Gulping hard, Seungcheol packed his bag with everything he needed to revise at night, though he suspected he would not be crunching knowledge. He never did. Tonight, however, would not be passed in screwing around with his guitar either.

 

The vehicles harrumphed before speeding off in different directions. They left a trail of pollution on their way, whose darkness probably rivalled the emotion Seungcheol was fucking drowning in right now.  A slight wind picked up, slamming itself on his face, fucking inconsiderate of how shitty he felt. _Like Mingyu._ A part of him wanted to hunt down the traitor and strangle him. But that was a part. Being the youngest in a family of four meant that he’d learnt to make all sorts of compromises, that he’d learnt to suppress disappointment with other, less valuable things. So, maybe, yes, he could under—

Taking a deep breath, Seungcheol licked the insides of his teeth. It was such a mechanical action that a certain calm overtook him. As the wind continued its assault, as the vehicles continued its noise, Seungcheol found himself furiously licking his teeth. Again and again and again. Back and forth, back and forth, back and—left, right, left, right. All he could see was a sheet of asphalt.

He jolted.

Hong Jisoo?

“Sorry,” she flushed. “You were about to walk into the road.”

Seungcheol instantly collected himself and surveyed his current position. He really was one step below on the road, apparently having stepped off of the pavement.

 _God,_ he thought, _the wind is a bitch._ He offered a word of gratitude to Jisoo, who looked slightly uncomfortable. _Because you were about to commit unwanted suicide._

Silence ensued between them. The world, in the meantime, roared and honked and whooshed. Seungcheol checked the time on his phone. _17:48_ How long had he stood here? Missed a bus yet?

He heard someone clear their throat. “Do you need my cardigan? You’re not wearing much,” Jisoo said.

Seungcheol had to _really_ look down to catch a proper glimpse of her face. _Wow._ He probably had a good seven inches on her, yet she seemed vaguely taller than Soonyoung.

“Seungcheol?” When Jisoo called him again, he realised he was not wearing his jacket, which he probably left inside his desk drawer. The breeze suddenly caught up with him, and he could feel goose bumps rising under his shirt.

“I don’t think it’ll fit. Your cardigan. You’re too—” he paused. She _was_ too small. He was way taller and slightly bigger in size too. Calling apple an apple was not a crime.

“Small?” Jisoo completed his sentence, amusement clear.

Seungcheol nodded in affirmative. In hindsight it was kind of weird for her to make an offer like that. It was something boys said, an offer men made.

He turned away from her, concentrating on the road, willing his bus to arrive. There was so much inside his head that it wanted to burst. And eventually, they’d have to gather and discuss. Arguing wasn’t an answer. There was also the annual school fest, then a few gigs they’d been trying to land since summer. Sound cloud updates, new songs, new covers…

Seungcheol was deep in his thoughts until Jisoo said, “Haven’t seen you here before. This stop, I mean.”

Clearing his head, he said, almost groggily, “Yeah…Jihoon and I usually walk to a further stop, and we rarely leave this early, or I guess, late.”

Blinking deliberately a few times, Seungcheol managed to focus better on his classmate. _Did he have to though?_  A result of...The forced show of respect, the obnoxious etiquette, the fake confessions of love, all a show, a good show if somebody asked his rather optimistic older brother. He wanted to gag. Even when he was feeling crappy, he ended up seemingly polite. A result of his “upbringing”. _God._ His parents weren’t even around for that anymore. Nobody faked interest in older children.

“Having parents around all the time isn’t very ideal, one would say.”

Seungcheol choked. He didn’t know on what exactly but he was coughing like his soul was stabbing him from the inside. As any human would, he subconsciously expected Jisoo to be _comforting_ him? Patting his back so his throat would relax? Instead, her head hung low, giggles increasing in volume and frequency as each second passed.

The coughing gradually ceased, yet his suspicion that Hong Jisoo might be a devil was growing at an exponential rate.

“Don’t look at me like I’m gonna murder you,” the devil grinned, her two invisible horns taking shape and colour in front of Seungcheol’s very eyes. “You realise you talk out loud, right?”

Looking directly at her face startled him. Those feline eyes were squeezed into two lines cushioned by clouds. Her lips stretched wide enough to seem coy but conveyed every bit of mischief and something, just something about Hong Jisoo was alluring, and dang it. Seungcheol seriously approved of SVC male population’s taste. 

Something weird happened. In that split second, as his sole focus was how pretty she was, something weird happened. If he'd had the benefit of observing this scene from an outsider’s perspective, perhaps he would have noticed a difference in the air, a difference in the way he was facing her. He would have noticed how his own gaze was glued on hers, stuck as if this were a natural phenomenon. And if he'd been a more observant person, he would’ve noticed the wind was no longer harassing him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for posting so late. i felt the urge to revise and proofread, but youtube kept distracting me. >< should i post biweekly? i've finished the next chapter as well so i'm thinking if i should post more frequently? amxnmzzkhxjsdlq i'll make the decision by next friday, when i may or may not have more chapters in stock. 
> 
> but scheduling aside, this was the big mingyu thing. :p anticlimactic but i wanted to add a little friendship drama. also, i didn't think i'd add so much cheolsoo already but i've realised my first draft and this (third) both have cheolsoo scenes every chapter. and jisoo is starting to leave a real impression on seungcheol <\- another thing i hadn't realised i'd done until i was re-reading this chap. 
> 
> thank you everyone for the support. meet you next friday :)


	5. Five

Was Jihoon fucking with him?

Heaving a fucking frustrated, fucking furious sigh, Seungcheol took long, thunderous strides. These fuckers were acting like little kids whose parents were up for an amateur Pokémon battle. Mingyu quit their KaTalk last night, and now, Jihoon was absent from their usual meetup spot.

Seungcheol had no idea why he was remotely shocked by their behaviour. Mingyu stumbled over his own feet while Jihoon stumbled over his own emotions. For them to emulate the behaviour of kindergarteners could hardly be surprising. Not that Seungcheol could claim the moral high ground, what with how rude he had been with Mingyu. But, he argued, it was a natural response to a long-term bandmate calling it quits out of the blue in fucking PE in front of fucking every-fucking-body good-fucking-ness Kim Mingyu was an actual—

Inhaling sharply, Seungcheol exhaled the remaining bits of anger. He was the mature one. He handled and sorted out all the bullshit. This had been the norm since forever. Jihoon’s head was so deep inside the world of music that his ability to function in real-world affairs had debilitated. Mingyu was a natural scatterbrain whose true strength lay in eating textbooks. Hansol, on the other hand, held an innocence in contrast to his ‘chill’, ‘badass’, ‘bro, im so sicc’ persona. _God._ Dissecting the band in this way prompted a sense of nausea. To think he had survived a night of all that thinking.

Just as he arrived in front of With Me, he observed a throng of students rushing inside school, a group of prefects ushering them in. With one last sigh, Seungcheol dashed, not a second too late.

 

He should have seen this coming. Jihoon not budging, Mingyu not waiting. Lunch was a two-person affair. Normally all four of them would find a bench in the school playground, but due to two brooding asses, Seungcheol and Hansol decided to eat at the canteen.

“Does this food taste shittier than usual?” grumbled Seungcheol, stabbing a combo of rice and broccolis.

Gulping down a mouthful, Hansol said, “No, usually Mingyu brings a better side dish." 

Seungcheol let go of his chopsticks, which crashed into the rim of the bowl to produce a loud, clattering sound. “No Mingyu, no good food?”

“I’m sorry too, my man.”

“Let’s bring back Mingyu and kick out the grump.”

The duo snorted and began cackling together, stuffing their mouths with extremely unpleasant food.

 

Post-afternoon assembly (held Fridays), Seungcheol was relieved to see Jihoon seated, instead of scurrying off home. The latter seemed to have finished packing, desk all cleared. _Was he ready to talk?_

The guitarist and drummer communicated their excitement through a series of gestures and pointy gazes, ultimately leading Hansol to push Seungcheol towards Jihoon while he followed closely, beaming. (They were going to get the band back together!)

The beam fell into some gutter when Jihoon avoided their presence and looked straight ahead. Confused, Seungcheol followed his gaze until he read the words on the blackboard: ‘SCHOOL FEST STAY BEHIND AFTER FA’. Instantly, his mood soured. He mouthed ‘fuck you’ and flipped the finger at Jihoon (did he at least witness that?), then marched towards his seat.

Hansol plopped down in front of him, mercilessly tossing his bag on the floor (clearly not out of habit). Glad to know Seungcheol wasn’t the only pissed person in this room. And _goodness_. _Seriously?_  He punched the exercise book he’d left on his desk with as little noise as possible. As if having shit friends wasn’t enough, English words felt the need to mock him.

Possibly two minutes passed before everyone entered, including Jisoo, the class president (or some stereotypical nerd) and Hwang. His mood could not be cheered in spite of a goofy Secretary Seokmin, whose parents had obviously dropped him as a baby.

Firstly, the class debated on what event they should hold. Last year, they had organised a haunted house (Seungcheol recalled a screaming Mingyu), and a retro disco had been done as well. There were suggestions for a video game booth, a nail parlour and even a reading room (“Grammas aren’t invited, Minhyuk!” and a swift “We wouldn’t have to do anything though!”). They settled with a jazz café (“Only good vibes eyyy!” and a mocking “Also a lot of work eyy!”).

“Jisoo is handling the decorations!” some loser shouted from the left. “Bet she can make everything pretty!” More losers agreed with him, receiving an eye roll from Seungcheol. _Desperate._

“I-” Jisoo tried protesting but her protests were drowned in the roaring excitement of their male classmates.

Seokmin didn’t seem to mind this time as he began transcribing immediately after Jisoo’s name was proposed. After that, more names were given; some rejected, others accepted. Few received the enthusiasm that Jisoo had been served with, though one Jeongyeon ( _cute_ , Seungcheol thought) proved to be quite popular.

In fact, so many relatively pretty girls were mentioned that Seungcheol temporarily forgot the drama his band had performed in front of these people yesterday until—

“Hey!” one of the chosen helpers whined.  “Don’t you think asking us girls to do everything by ourselves will be hard? Get some dudes to help us. Dibs on Choi Seungcheol!”

This instantly triggered a chorus of teasing ‘ooooooohhhhh’ from the class. _Huh?_

Seungcheol turned around to find a kinda pretty classmate smiling at him, her fingers dancing to indicate a kinda wave. He stiffly moved his hand left to right, right to left, unsure of how this scene fit in with the movie. Had he ever talked to her? He didn’t even know her!

He swivelled back to face a curious Hansol, to whom he shrugged. Honestly, he was still interested in chasing Jeonghan. No way would he be distracted by other girls. So far, they had paled in comparison to his one true crush, who was definitely gonna blow his mind away. He only had to clear up the ten…sion—Right. That. Seungcheol involuntarily gritted his teeth. _Thank you, Kim Mingew._

“Not a bad idea actually,” said the nerdy president once the class finished their catcalls “But Youna is working on food, so maybe we should get four, five more people. She can be in-charge.”

“Actually, can I work on whatever Jisoo is doing? She’s my seatmate. Easier to organise,” Seungcheol had no idea where that came from, but come it did. Plus, his argument held up. It would be much more convenient to discuss with her during those five-minute breaks after each lesson.

Of course, someone had to gasp ever theatrically and ‘ooh’ ‘aah’ a new drama into the room. Seungcheol caught a ‘whatchu gon’ do now, Younaaa?’ amidst the commotion. Meanwhile, Hwang stood on the side, smiling, with no intention to maintain quiet. _So much for self-discipline._ He was one of _those_ teachers. The students would eat him alive by the end of the year.

The discussion birthed a couple more rumours and juicy titbits, hopefully important information for the organisation of the school festival as well, before ending on a kind of not bad note. Seungcheol’s head throbbed.

Jihoon scurried out the moment Hwang dismissed the class. _Bastard_. Doubly represented his birth and character.

“Gone,” said Hansol. “You think he realises we’re skipping more practices now?”

“You think he realises he’s stupid?”

Hansol clucked his tongue. “Wanna try Mingyu? His head’s more level.”

Seungcheol sighed before nodding. The two of them slowly got up, planning their course of action. However, a sudden exclamation from Jisoo brought them to a standstill.

“Your number?” she breathed, tightening the straps of her bag, Seokmin towering over her. “We should discuss the overall plan.”

“Get it from Hansol,” said Seungcheol. “Or Jihoon, Mingyu.” He paused. “Funny. We do have quite a few mutuals.” Funnier still. He wasn’t sure if their mutuals were still mutuals with each other.

Jisoo gave him two thumbs up.

 

Mingyu, to his credit, was leaning against his classroom’s door, expression grim yet expectant.

“At least you’re smart,” muttered Seungcheol. _Idiot._ He wasn’t looking for a fight, but seeing Mingyu reminded him of the events that had taken place since yesterday. “So, you’re really quitting?” he asked once they all huddled up together.

The nod did not surprise. The answer had been obvious.

The trio stayed silent for longer. A string of curious students eyed them briefly before scampering away. Even Jeonghan cast them a quick glance before she was absorbed into Jisoo’s and Seokmin’s circuit of warmth. The feelings of loss and betrayal were grasping Seungcheol so tightly he couldn’t bring himself to be concerned with her attention.

“I found you a new bassist,” Mingyu broke the silence.

Seungcheol scoffed, “I knew it.” _Damn Mingyu._ On one hand, Mingyu was a stellar personification of ‘clumsy’. On another, his practicality was astounding. He made a mistake, he found a solution. “Who?”

“Class C, Jeon Wonwoo, tall, sort of broods.”

Leaning against the wall, Seungcheol sighed, “Cos Jihoon isn’t enough?” Hansol chuckled wryly.

Mingyu rolled his eyes and said, “Wonwoo is nothing like an emotionally constipated, angsty, teenage midget who stopped growing in middle school. Firstly, he’s _tall,_ maybe five centimetres shorter than me. Secon—”

“Gyu.”

“Sorry, sorry. Point is Wonwoo’s good. His style is pretty different but it’ll fit. For sure. Give him a try once Ji cools down.”

“Yeah, next century.”

“I’ll pm him,” said Hansol, more seriously than ever before. “We’re supposed to release a cover on sound cloud Sunday next. We need a bassist asap.”

“Play with us one last time. This can be our last arrangement. After this deadline, we don’t have anything lined up till School Fest. We can check the Woo guy before that.”

“I-” Mingyu seemed to be mulling over his offer, brows pulled in and lips pressed into a pensive line. A trickle of hope ignited in Seungcheol’s heart. Was he about to say yes? “Mocks,” a one-word answer that Mingyu supplemented with a shrug before lightly pushing away Seungcheol and Hansol.

The guitarist nearly broke his fist from how hard he punched the wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for disappearing I'm in a hurry rn I'll update this section a bit later
> 
> edit: im planning on single friday updates until Feb, when i might begin biweekly updates. depends on my workload and whether im able to pull up my grades by whole two grades (in short, i fucked up sem 1). also, i updated this chap yesterday (thurs) cuz im a lil busy today and was afraid i would forget to update. lol im a mess


	6. Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> too much dialogue. too much awkward dialogue. but i love dialogue because it shows.

In spite of Hansol’s rather grave message, Jihoon ignored the duo for two whole weeks. Seungcheol, in utter disbelief, issued a note of apology to their sound cloud followers, citing personal reasons for not uploading the promised mashup cover of several rock n’ roll classics (including global sports anthem ‘We Are the Champions’). Initially, with each passing moment, his anger intensified into rage. However, as the pile of assignments grew, fatigue overshadowed any resentment towards his long-time friend.

By the end of March, all Seungcheol could think about was his inability to catch up with the rest of the class. Considering his two-year stint as a Class C student, this was far from surprising. Classes A and B were indeed more advanced, comprising of students with above average grades, while the rest lingered between average and far, far below average. His mother also visited during one of her biannual trips to South Korea. Lucky. Last year, she’d _just_ touched down in Incheon Airport before flying to Busan slash Mokpo respectively from Gimpo.

“How’s school?” she asked, stripping her hands of white chiffon gloves (no doubt branded). She didn’t spare him a glance even as she fell down on the sofa, exhaling to release leftover exhaustion from a long flight. “Seungcheol, how is _school_? Have your grades stopped being embarrassing?” she emphasised when no response was given. Her eyes fastened themselves on her son’s incoming figure. _God. He hated that._

Aware it would drive her crazy, Seungcheol discarded his shoes on their expensive hand-made carpet from Iran.

As expected, Mother Dearest launched into an agitated censure of all things wrong with Seungcheol and his brother (who, unbeknownst to her, lived with his girlfriend throughout the school year), their lack of gratitude towards the luxuries provided for them by who else but her and her cheating husband (Seungcheol was running this sentence for far too long but his mother’s linen was dirty too), and recently the lack of respect shown to, again, the Great Choi Couple – Cheating Specialists™.

He walked out in the midst of her shouting, endured another hour-long, high-pitched, scream fest – she in the living room still, he in the comforts of his bedroom. It was quite sweet actually – the amount of oxygen she wasted on him. Also cute how she didn’t bother to put more effort in slamming down his door and holding a real tête-à-tête with him.

Seungcheol woke up, much like any other day, to an empty house. Well, Mrs Choi hadn’t brought home a suitcase anyway.

 

Shoving aside shit friends, shit family and shit grades, Seungcheol’s social life saw a bit of improvement. Having learned the terrible ways of Jihoon (and Mingyu), Soonyoung began visiting more frequently, especially during lunch, bringing along the ever-naïve Jun. Her side agenda was the friendship of Jisoo of course.

“I can’t believe Jihoon turned out to be _such_ a jerk!” said Soonyoung, clamping down hard on her momma’s great, homemade fried chicken, and chewing diligently.

Jun, sweet, sweet Jun, whispered in reproach, “He’s right there! Lower your volume, Soon.” How could Seungcheol bear to ruin her innocence by explaining Soon’s true intention? Moon Junhwi, commonly called Jun, was Soonyoung’s ‘bestie’, or whatever girly terms girls used. She was born and raised in Seoul although her parents hailed from Shenzhen, China. Unusually tall for a girl, Jun _thankfully_ stood up only till Seungcheol’s chin. Her teeth were braced, and her hair fringed her nape.

“Wooah, did you guys get the same hairstylist or what?” Hansol said, grabbing an empty seat and pulling it over to the congregated group. He was carrying a school-issued lunchbox. Seungcheol had begun packing leftovers like KFC, Shake Shack, McDonald’s and occasionally pizza. _Fuck canteens._

“Excuse you,” scoffed Soonyoung, “ _My_ haircut is what you call a ‘sleek bob’ whereas Jun has a chin-length, side swept bob. Two _totally_ distinct styles.”

“That’s nice. Jeonghan and I both have straight hair that reaches our midriffs. We measured.” Another change: Jisoo and Seokmin sometimes joined their small quartet. According to them, Jeonghan had such days when she spent lunch recess at the library revising instead of eating. When asked if she was worried, Jisoo replied Joenghan could take care of herself and _how very sweet of you to ask, Cheollie, I wonder what your motive is._ Seungcheol said no more.

Soonyoung excitedly remarked upon Jisoo’s remark and further elaborated, “Yeah, but it’s cool how differently you style your hair! You have it braided while Jeonghan loops it into a high ponytail.” Jisoo kindly ignored the reverent tone the tiny – Soon was tiny – girl’s voice took at the mention of Jeonghan’s name. She had come to understand that Seungcheol wasn’t the only one whipped for her best friend.

“Does hair say much about someone’s personality?” pondered Seokmin. Fun fact: Hansol and Seokmin shared the same birthday, which sort of explained why they both humoured Soonyoung so generously – they were both as wacko. 

With this new albeit strange company, Seungcheol braved each day as heroically as a struggling teenager could. Sure, Mingyu’s departure had not only strained their relations with Jihoon but also devastated any plans for the glamourous music careers they’d envisioned. However, at least Seungcheol boasted a wider friendship circle. In fact, one of these days, Jeonghan might just join them. Who cared about friends and dream career? He could be going out with his dream woman by Death Day (nationally known as CSAT).

 

It was right after these weeks that Jisoo called.

Seungcheol groaned into himself, eyes desperately opposing any attempts to open up. He could feel a hard surface under his right cheek, the left one being hit by wind. _Were the windows open? The hell…_ Somewhere in the background, the shrill tone of an iPhone rang. Reluctantly, his hands jumped from spot to spot in order to grasp his phone. It was near some corner. _Study desk?._

“Cheol?” He grunted. “Um…are you—?”

He finally connected the voice to its owner. Challenging his lids to part, he blearily took in his surroundings, sight finally landing on his lap. “Soo?” The reply came off as a question, which was not his intention. He fully recognised the person at the other end.

“I’m sorry. Was this a bad time to call?”

A vehicle engine roared into life just then, startling Seungcheol.  Groaning from the slight shock, he said, “No, no, go ahead. I just fell asleep on my – uh –.” He read the digital clock standing proudly on the desk. “It’s 4:44, great time.”

“Yes,” said Jisoo. She followed this with a prolonged ‘okay’, devoid of any conviction, and continued, “It’s about School Fest. I could’ve texted you but there’s just too many things I wanna talk about.”

“Yeah, yeah. Fine, uh, fine,” the remnants of sleep were evident. Perhaps five minutes passed with Jisoo introducing her plan, while Seungcheol grunted along and tried to clear away the fog in his mind.

Jisoo stopped. “Maybe it’s better if I call another time?”

“No, no, no,” Seungcheol spoke in a rush. Planting fingers on each side of his forehead to massage, he apologised, “My mind is reorienting itself. I just – sorry, I fell asleep on my desk and…It’s okay. We can’t keep delaying this. Otherwise, the nerd will slay us. Literally.”

“Who?” _Shit._

“Class president. I don’t know his name dammit.” A series of car honks echoed into his room, prompting him to eye the windows, which were indeed open. _He’d done that, hadn’t he?_ Cursing the Seungcheol from three hours ago, he stood up to close the darned things, increasingly agitated by the traffic disturbance. He _loathed_ weekend afternoons.

“Jimin,” Jisoo laughed.

He dismissed the nerd’s name (just how more plain and common could a name be though) and put forward some of his own ideas, kickstarting the discussion. 

“Cream is a neutral colour too. I think black and white would be too glum.”

“Cream’s too girly. Besides, everyone likes black and white.”

“What? Then, white's girly too! It’s a colour traditionally associated with girls.”

“White's a neutral colour. It's never represented girls.”

“Well, cream represents cakes. Everyone loves cakes.”

They quarreled back and forth for a solid minute until Seungcheol _breathed._ Was he bickering over something so useless with Hong Jisoo? “Cream it is then,” he conceded, deciding to stick posters of blood and gore right before the café opened.  

To his displeasure, they moved onto whether curtains were necessary.  _Seriously? What could the curtains accomplish?_

“It’ll be fancy and princess-like.”

“Chill jazz café, not Madame Puddifoot’s Tea Shop!”

“You’ve read Harry Potter?”

“The only books that I have. As a –”

“‘—general rule, I don’t read.’ That’s clichéd, Cheol,” giggled Jisoo. “Drink some originality potion. You’re right. We don’t need curtains. I was just wondering if we could get some from Jeonghan. Her family has a line of businesses that includes curtains retail and wholesale.” He  _knew_ Jisoo didn't smirk, but he also knew that her grin stretched into something deceptively angelic with a lot of smugness hidden.

Arguments that were viciously climbing up his throat now blocked any sound from exiting, standing pitifully as a boundary in his airway. “You’re really good at leaving people speechless,” he coerced out after a moment of silence (for his dignity).

“My pleasure,” Jisoo sang. “Yes curtains?”

Seungcheol gestured a nod before realising circumstances necessitated a verbal answer.  “What about the ornaments? Little toy carousels and princesses kissing soldiers?”  _They might as well dress Jihoon in a maid costume._

“No, you decide.” A surprise from the great Hong Jisoo.

“You won’t veto my decision?”

“Nuh-uh. The wallpaper of my choice and some beautiful curtains decorating the door. Everything else is yours.”

“I'm honoured, but dictatorship isn't good.”

“If it’s you, it’ll be fine.” 

“So much trust in a boy you’ve just met?” he chuckled.

“Your friends trust you. And I trust Mingyu.” 

“Ouch, I'll let them know how much you trust them,” laughed Seungcheol. Then, more seriously, he added, “He’s not very trustworthy."  _If he were, their band wouldn’t be in shambles right now._

Jisoo hummed, “I’m stepping out of line here, but Mingyu…He’s – he’s a good kid. And he loves music so much—”

“Can we not?” The harshness of his tone surprised Seungcheol as well, and he almost regretted the words. Almost.

A quick apology later, discussion for the School Fest resumed, neither of them daring to banter outside of the designated topic, or banter in general.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kajbvsjcoqdaal this is going way slower than i'd planned uwu // ;^; my original plan is also facing changes as the story progresses ;;^;; anywaaaaayyyy, I'll be uploading biweekly from feb onwards. most likely friday & saturday. at the rate that im going, im afraid this won't be finished until next yr lol. this is only the first part in the series ;;;^;;; if this chapter was too awkward, please lemme know so i can edit it asap :)


	7. Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the late update. my grandfather passed away thursday so it was hard for me to focus. then, on friday, I couldn't have a proper meal because we had to abstain from eating meat and my mum couldn't touch oil or salt. won't delay next time. I'm truly sorry. hope y'all understand

Next Monday brought along a bit of awkwardness. Although Seungcheol greeted Jisoo very casually, the latter’s smile did not reach her eyes, and she sat rigidly the whole day. Now he regretted the words he’d said.

The whole week, during Maths, English, Korean, History and every other lesson, he chanced glimpses at her, guilt forcing apologies all the way up to his lips, then ego pushing them back all the way down to the recesses of his stomach. What happened in his band was none of her business after all. Plus, Mingyu was closer to him, not her. What did she know about him? And if she was so knowledgeable about the inner workings of Mingyu’s mind, why didn’t she convince him to not quit? According to her logic, he would’ve been happier in the band than out of. An involuntary scoff escaped Seungcheol. For someone with an angel’s face, Jisoo sure matched the devil’s description. _Fake._

As quickly as the thought had formed itself, Seungcheol ducked into his arms and groaned. _No, what the fuck!_ Defending friends was not evil.  If anything, Hong Jisoo proved to be a pretty solid friend. Pretty and solid. His head throbbed. Ancient Korean poetry was not good companion to analysis of attractive girls. 

“Choi Seungcheol, no sleeping! Neither God nor the devil is coming down to finish your exam paper!”

 

On Thursday, while discussing other pathways to becoming music professionals, Seungcheol and Hansol were accosted by Jihoon. The midget’s gaze flickered from point to point, refusing any contact with the two boys. Nevertheless, his stance, blocking the path, presented the intention with much clarity. 

Seungcheol could have kissed Jihoon. He considered it very, very seriously. As all the stress that had built up from the previous month seeped out of him millimetre by millimetre (how else could stress be measured?), he slowly dropped into a squat, exhaling heavily in the process. He would punch Jihoon later for everything, but for now, he busied himself with fixing the cracks in the painting of his dreams.  

Next to him, Hansol fist bumped Jihoon, who finally looked at them square in the face and offered a small smile – a bare upturn of the lips. Deserving of a punch. 

But they could store ideas of revenge for this fiasco for another time. Right now, they had space only a bassist could fill.

 

“So, how did you hurt Jisoo’s feelings?”

“What?”

Every once in a while, Seungcheol returned home with Soonyoung, who would hang out with him to devour a lot of junk; then, should they feel particularly monstrous due to their unhealthy appetite, practise taekwondo in a makeshift dojang, or wrestle for the Wii controller. Soonyoung might be the better dancer, but Seungcheol was a more successful winner. These were common topics that they grappled with. 

This – this confrontational tone assumed and this aggressive language used (read: hurt, feelings) –not so common. Guilt washed Seungcheol until his skin dried and fell prey to flakes and rashes.

“Don’t bother to lie, Choi! I may be half your size but I got my black belt before you could even fantasise about it.” He hand’t been able to fantasise about it because Soonyoung had had accidentally dropped a sack of rice on his ankle a week prior to their penultimate exam. 

Soonyoung delivered a discourse on Seungcheol and Jisoo’s friendship, reiterating several times the currently present chasm in their dynamics. How could Seungcheol be so insensitive? How could he blabber off his mouth till Jisoo took offence? How could he have been so crass with the feelings of a true lady? How could he demonstrate such lack of tact? How? Just _how_ could Choi Seungcheol, a mere peasant, cause such discomfort to Hong Jisoo, an esteemed daughter of nobility? 

“What if she’s the one who offended me?” cried out Seungcheol. He could bear the insult no more, especially taking account of Jisoo carelessly mentioning Mingyu and meddling in affairs unrelated to herself. “What if she’s the one who blabbered until _I_ took offence?” 

“You’re not the one who ended up hurt!”

He winced. Raking off the cherry blossom leaves from his hair, Seungcheol diverted his attention to the lines of pink trees, which were gracefully parting with their vibrant offspring. While appreciating the beautiful sight, he was also grateful for silence on Soonyoung’s part. She knew exactly when to be a sister, when to be a mother and when to be a friend.

Just before crossing a road (one of many for the two childhood friends always arrived at his doorstep on foot, never by bus), he said, “That doesn’t discount my feelings.”

“No, it doesn’t, but you feel guilty, don’t you?” Right after stepping on the pavement, Soonyoung leaned in and hugged Seungcheol from the side. “Like that time you pranked me with the clown box. 

Chuckling, he said, “Seeing you cry is not an option.” 

“Of course, brother dearest, you promise to beat up my future husband?”

“You won’t be meeting him in this life,” declared Seungcheol. “Men are wolves,” saying so, he wound an arm around Soonyoung’s shoulder. “And you deserve an angel.”

Without warning, Soonyoung shoved away Seungcheol (ow!) and exclaimed with gleaming eyes, “I do! Which is why you’re patching up with Jisoo right now! She’s heaven-sent! You have her number, don’t you?  Call her! Call her!” What she received was a look of incredulity and distinctly disapproving head-shaking.

“Call her to apologise? I’ll be meeting her tomorrow.”

Soonyoung snorted, “You made up with Jihoon. I bet you three knuckleheads are gonna start poring over music sheets again and ignore everyone, including one of the most beautiful girls in this district.”

“I won’t. Promise.” Noting down the look on her face, he fished out his phone. “I’ll call, happy?” He scrolled down his contact list with Soonyoung hovering over the screen.

(“‘Soonsoon?’ We’re not in kindergarten!” 

“You have me saved as ‘Cheoritzo’.”)

Glancing over at Soonyoung for reassurance, Seungcheol pressed ‘call’. Coils of nerves slithered around in the depths of his stomach without any indication of settling down. When the chorus of ‘Gangnam Style’ entered his ears, rather than assuage his uneasiness, it gave way to a rising erraticism in his ribcage. 

“Hi, Seungcheol?” 

Clearing his throat, he said, “Hey.” He noiselessly choked on his spit from the pure awkwardness. Soonyoung merely batted her lashes and grinned at him. She mouthed something, which he could have deciphered had he not been completely absorbed by the awkwardness he felt.

Finally, when both Jisoo and he held the silence for too long, Soonyoung hissed, “‘Sorry’!”

“Sorry!” Seungcheol abruptly repeated, proceeding to a face palm right after. “I mean – yes, I mean sorry, but—”

“Calm down,” came the gentle comment. “I’m listening.”

Deep breath. Deep, deep breath. “I shouldn’t have got angry. You were trying to help.” Two thumbs up from Kwon Soonyoung; radio silence from Hong Jisoo. “Soo?”

“Ah – yeah, no, I – It was my fault too. Shouldn’t have butt in.”

“Don’t guilt trip me,” he said drily, earning subdued giggles. “So, um, see you tomorrow?”

“Did you call me just to apologise?” Damn it. He couldn’t help a very obvious smile blossom on his face. Hearing the usual teasing lilt in her voice return was satisfying. 

In any case, he had not expected them to progress into a full-blown conversation. It was difficult to remove his attention from Jisoo, who managed to speak animatedly yet nonchalantly. Almost fascinating. Hansol was similar, but Seungcheol preferred fascination with a pretty girl over fascination with a drummer boy whose pants were pulled too low.

And, be it Jisoo’s distinct American accent (‘ _chalk-ke-late’_ instead of _‘cho-co-lit’_ ) or her theatrical accusations (‘Seungcheol, you beast! ‘I don’t watch animes.’ Uneducated! Ignorant! How do they let you out of the house?’), Seuncheol was captivated.

“How have you not joined the drama club yet?”

“‘ _All the world’s a stage; and all the men and women merely players._ ’” 

“I failed our English quiz last week.” 

Jisoo translated whatever she’d said while laughing, “The English we learn here is so much more academic than literary so no worries. Well, yes worries because it is sooo academic and hard, but no worries...yeah, I lost my train of thoughts.”

This opened them up to a fresh set of conversation topics and all the while all Seungcheol could think about was the level of intelligence (and geekiness) Jisoo possessed. He pitied the men who would never succeed in their quest to conquer Jisoo’s heart. In fact, it dawned on him that Seokmin was not quite as foolish as supposed.

Meanwhile, Soonyoung was not half as impressed with becoming a third wheeler to a friend and his phone. Nonetheless, she did not interrupt either, which would surprise Seungcheol way later, when they would be filtering menus on a food app (needless to say, Seungcheol’s treat). For now, his ears were occupied with Jisoo’s giggles, mouth with replies to everything she asked, and mind with the exact expressions made by her doll-like face.


	8. Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First and foremost, thank you for your condolences. I'm not thinking much about it because that brings up guilt about certain circumstances. All in all, we're fine I guess. If anything, I'm thankful my grandpa's children were all present during his last moments. 
> 
> Secondly, I am sorry for this late post. Aside from the irresponsible fuck that I am, my workload is also freaking heavy - 36 credits - 12 being language courses - not good idea. 
> 
> Thirdly, changing uploading schedule to Sundays/early Mondays - I'm busy throughout the week - only available half of the weekend. So, I catch up on the story on Saturdays. As compensation, I'll try my best to either extend the chapter (~1.8k) or update two short (~1.2k) chapters on Sundays. That is so I can balance quantity + quality.
> 
> Finally, thank you everyone so far for handling my asshat-ness.

As predicted by Soonyoung, Seungcheol, Hansol and Jihoon spent the next morning and breaks solely with one another. Given the amount of time they had wasted on useless tiffs (Jihoon being a baby), it had become necessary for them to organise themselves as quickly as possible. The first task was to employ a new bassist, a position for which Mingyu had them backed up.

They were still discussing during lunch break when Yoon Jeonghan waltzed in and stopped by Jisoo’s desk. Seeing that the band had resolved their conflict, Seungcheol visibly choked from her presence and thoroughly combed his hair with what else but fingers.

Jihoon called for his attention, more amused than annoyed. (He’d been weird as of late. Goodness knew where all the grump in him went.) With great difficulty, Seungcheol beckoned his straying gaze to concentrate on his friends, whose restrained laughter echoed louder than should have.

They weren’t the only ones enjoying at his expense. He could _feel_ the glances from Jisoo and Seokmin. In fact, Seokmin even thumped his shoulder from behind while making conversation with Yoon Freaking Jeonghan. He would groan out loud were it not the resurrected zombies clawing at his stomach walls to stand up. Yes, slews of butterflies blanched as comparison to the fuckery that wrecked his insides.

The zombies tripled when his ears picked up on Jisoo’s version of his name: all velvety and slippery in warmth, pronounced with little exertion. The context was slippery too.

“Cheol, introduce yourself! This is Jeonghan, _everyone’s_ all-time favourite,” Jisoo disposed of a bright grin towards him. _Ah, the return of the devil horns._

Mustering what little courage to look at _Her,_ Seungcheol gaped. There, a desk and some away stood Yoon Jeonghan, the woman of his waking, walking, sleeping, talking dreams. She offered him a mild smile laced with curiosity. Choke, choke, choke. Seungcheol needed to choke on something, _anything_ to confirm or disprove the status of his life. Alive? Dead? Dreaming? Illusion? _Hallucination?_ Jihoon had drugged him, hadn’t he? Or maybe Mingyu was partaking in some voodoo doll—

“Don’t be scared by his silence. Seungcheol’s grasp on reality can be slippy. He doesn’t watch anime.”

“Okay, Soo, for the last time, I’m nineteen. I can’t be watching cartoons at this age!”

“Ca—” his seatmate spun full-body towards him, eyes squinting most suspiciously and mouth shaped into a pending accusation. “It’s _art._ ”

Unaware himself, Seungcheol began wholeheartedly engaging in a debate with Jisoo, whose indignation seeped into every statement and allegation. At one point, Seungcheol, having lost complete control of himself, looked Jeonghan directly into the eyes and said, “What secret does this devil-in-disguise hold against you? She’s arguing with me over a series of drawings!”

“I trained her,” Jeonghan laughed out loud, covering her mouth in the process, and kicking Seungcheol back into reality. _Oh._ He was choking alright. And hallucinating. Fantasising. Dammit. Dammit. Dammit.

Jisoo, ready to retort, was interrupted by Hansol, “Y’all ridiculous. Like Jihoon’s so done with this shit. Look at him.”

Indeed, the midget’s face had contorted into a strong expression of disgust. He explicitly added that he had better lunch breaks when he was not hanging around them, which instigated another round of useless biting exchanges, all six of them contributing soon enough.

Seungcheol only remembered his lunch (i.e. leftover fries) once the bell shrilled that lessons were to recommence.

 

 

After school, the band snooped around until they discovered an empty classroom to set up and practise. Due to the amount of training they had missed, they forwent full-fledged sessions for basic team exercises. These exercises consisted of one member pulling out a random melody which the others had to spontaneously support. If Jihoon hummed a self-composed, undisclosed tune, Seungcheol plucked his strings to create a rhythm while Hansol set the tempo by hitting the desks around him. They had developed this method post-recruitment of Mingyu, whose mainly funk style had clashed with the trio’s more rock sound. It was this exercise that had helped them sew together their musical personalities. The irony that Mingyu was no longer here.

By the time they agreed on a breather, the sun was setting.

Chugging down a bottle of water, Seungcheol brought up the topic of this Jeon Wonwoo. “Mingyu said he broods, so essentially we’ve found you a friend.”

Jihoon, in between long sips, pulled up his middle finger, but remained mum. Not a single trace of resentment could be detected. Seungcheol had to double take. For Jihoon to be so at ease about Mingyu – something was off.

Before he could investigate, Hansol piped up with a few concerns. If Wonwoo could not assimilate into the band, they would have to search for a bassist. They would have to put up flyers and hold auditions. While money proved no issue (because a two-third of them boasted a set of negligent but wealthy parents), none of them understood where and how to obtain a passionate fool whose regard for CSAT barely extended till 26th November.

“Let’s be optimistic,” announced the guitarist. “We thought Mingyu would never be able to play rock. But he eventually, relatively fast, did. With all his funk and our rock, we ended up with our own sound. Jeon Wonwoo might be the same.” The trio shot glances at one another, even Jihoon. “Except for the quitting of course. That he’s gonna have to be very different.”

“Shit dude. Now you got me worried.”

Shrugging off these ominous remarks, they returned to practice. There was a lot of practice to do, but very little time. Increasing homework load, annoying school fest prep and new members…All very, very time-consuming. Plus, they had cram schools at eight o’ clock sharp. Fucking science.

 

 

Seungcheol wondered if he and the midget would ever reacquire their past routine. As he crossed the road, it dawned on him that this bit of arrangement had yet to be restored. How did Jihoon go to school anyway? By bus? Train?

Shaking his head to break away from the pathetic line of thinking, Seungcheol entered the school in relatively high spirits. To think that Jeonghan had smiled at him yesterday. To think that they had spoken to each other, face to face, in real life. 

He bumped into her on his way to the shoe room. Choke. However, nose deep into a book, she didn’t notice him.

 _Say something!_ What? _Say whatever! You can’t let her go again. You’ll become complete strangers again! Seungcheol!_

“Hey, Jeonghan,” it came out much smoother than its rocky origins. For effect, he propped himself against the wall, and maintained a friendly smile instead of a smirk. Running his hands through his hair was douchey enough. 

Jeonghan lifted her head up from her reading. Wary of blocking their schoolmates, she stepped aside to greet him. Seungcheol was not freaking out – his throat dried a little, his hand stopped at his crown, and fluffed up his hair from that point. Sure, jitters exhibited themselves in the form of various symptoms, but he was not freaking out. Nope.  

“What’s that you’re reading?” he pointed at the book in her hand.

“A discourse on style in academic papers,” she must have seen the displeasure rise on his face because she laughed out loud.

Seungcheol’s eyes dropped from her face to the ground in a snap, a grin slowly stretching out to each corner of his face. Her laugh could be accurately transcribed to ‘ha ha ha’; her voice a mix of nasality and clarity, slightly high-pitched without grating on ears.

“Reading extra material helps with understanding exam syllabus,” Jeonghan elaborated. “Jisoo mentioned you don’t care much about exams though.”

“Really?” Seungcheol raised his head to show a pair of raised brows. “I thought she only complained about my non-anime watching habits.” Successfully eliciting laughter, butterflies knocked into the doorstep of his heart.

They chattered for longer. Seungcheol suggested Jeonghan leave before him since he had yet to wear his slippers, but she refused, replying that she would wait.

 

 

The two minutes he spent inside the shoe room agonised the last bits of his soul – damn was he ready to walk her to class. His mind raced with random topics: studies, hobbies, TV shows, music – aaahhh so childish! Did Jeonghan even watch Korean shows? He knew a handful of people who strictly watched American dramas. Jun, despite being born and raised in Korea, bore strong leanings towards Chinese TV, which she admitted made no sense because most of what she watched had borrowed concepts from Korean shows.

The deliberation turned out futile. They transitioned from friendly smiles into smooth banter. He completely depended on his social nature to facilitate the exchange because his brain was hardly functioning. The quick-paced pounding of his heart accompanied the walk upstairs, which had never before been this remarkable.

Interestingly, they met Jisoo by the door of Class A. And Mingyu.

Seungcheol absorbed the scene in confusion. He wondered why Jisoo and Mingyu were speaking to each other so vivaciously. Annoyed by the sight of his former bandmate, he bid Jeonghan a short bye, casting her a brilliant smile. Her response prompted him to rake through his hair again. 

Of course, Jisoo, being Jisoo, invited Seungcheol over after whispering something into Jeonghan’s ear. He rejected, shooting Mingyu only a side glance. The giant himself averted his gaze away.

“I’ll go ahead,” Seungcheol told Jisoo, who smiled at him helplessly. If she did not want to upset him, why did she have to talk with Mingyu? That pissed him a little. But, he presented her with a mild grin anyway. Nobody could rain on his Jeonghan parade today.

Rather than enter his classroom, Seungcheol bounded over to Class C. Seeing that the teacher was not yet in, he called for Soonyoung, receiving a number of greetings from his former classmates.

He cheekily smirked at her. “Guess what,” he said. Unable to control himself, he cackled into his hand.  Mussing up his hair, the pure joy inside him reflected itself in a grand beam.

“Yeah, I don’t have time for this,” Soonyoung scowled.

“Soooooooon, guess! Guess!” Seungcheol felt like he had returned to sixth grade when he had visited Soonyoung’s _home_ (because the distinction between home and house was stark) for the first time and her mum had served him second helpings of her prized kimchi stew. That streak of excitement – a feeling reminiscent of a round of sugar high – coursed through his veins currently.

“Choi Seungcheol, take a look around this classroom. Pin your eyes to a particular left direction, fifth row, and you’ll gain a thorough understanding of how little I want to engage with you,” Soonyoung deadpanned.

Puzzled by the reaction, Seungcheol obeyed her orders. _Oh._ Jun and _oh._ “Who’s the geek?”

“Jeon Wonwoo,” an answer embedded with bitterness. “He transferred from D or something. They met in the school library and now make out in the classroom.”

Jeon…Wonwoo? _Oh._

Seungcheol’s interest in the couple renewed itself. Far away, in a corner of the class full of his friends, Seungcheol observed a giggling Moon Junhwi and a smiling Jeon Wonwoo lean into each other, flirting over open textbooks. One - Junhwi was flirting. Two - with the new, prospective bassist of his band.


	9. Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mlkdmankcnakldwsasm last week's update. I've been an asshat. sorry xakhkjsnvkxsadakioha this is kind of short (around 1.6k) but this week's is much longer (2kish) so I hope it compensates almkascnjc thank you everyone for the support * bows *

Jeon Wonwoo accepted the offer easily. He’d looked a bit surprised, but put up no protest. To what Mingyu had said about him brooding, Seungcheol agreed. After setting up a date for a trial session, when they were returning to their classroom, Hansol raised the idea that Wonwoo could be a severe introvert, with which Seungcheol also agreed.

“Brooding introvert,” he declared at the end.

As Jihoon had insisted before sprinting back home, the guitarist-and-drummer duo had also mentioned the trial session doubled as an audition. Jeon Wonwoo had also accepted this without protest. Seungcheol did not know what the boy ate but it made him rather agreeable (so far).

Band matters settled tentatively, the school festival occupied their attention again. Hansol the (un)lucky ass was not participating in the preparations because of his appointment as one of the servers. Jihoon, on the other hand, was preparing the music list with a few other classmates.  

During break, Jisoo and Seungcheol agreed upon a meeting on Saturday to visit Jeonghan’s family store. “I’m thinking fairytale-ish drapes. Something light and pastel,” said Jisoo with a mad glimmer in her eyes. Meanwhile, Seungcheol’s insides glimmered with the prospects of seeing Jeonghan on a weekend day.

 

 

In the mad rush to complete homework without falling asleep, days flew. Saturday morning, Seongcheol found himself awake too early. They were to meet at four in the afternoon (“Hannie and I have cram school. Sorry, Cheol, you’ll have to sacrifice your Saturday.”), but the excitement had transformed overnight into one gigantic ball of anxiety.

Firstly, what the fuck should he wear? He recycled three outfits on a regular basis: one, oversized white sweater with black skinnies and vans; two, oversized pink sweater with black skinnies and vans; three, school uniform. Maybe a turtleneck with a coat would be a good change? Would that be overdressing? Curtain shopping…Seungcheol groaned again. What did people wear when buying curtains?

“Is a coat okay for curtain shopping?” Five minutes later, he found himself on the phone with Soonyoung. 

“Did you get yourself married?” Soonyoung’s exclamation of incredulity burst through some background electro-dance music. _Dancing at nine in the morning. Obviously a Soon thing to do._

“Marri-no, what? Soon, focus. Would a coat do? Or should I dress as usual?”

“Seungcheol, why on earth are you buying curtains? Did your parents gift you a condo for not wishing you a happy birthday last year?”

“Yeah right. It’s for school fest. Jisoo wants to make it all fancy shmancy and Jeonghan’s parents own a curtain business so I need to dress well. I’m not meeting Jeonghan on a Saturday looking like a twerp.”

“You _are_ a twerp. Clothed or naked, the twerpiness won’t be hidden. Don’t roll your eyes – I can feel it in my bones when you do that. Anyway, contact Jisoo and see what she’s wearing.”

One arm inside the darkness of the wardrobe, rifling through mountains of disused clothes, Seungcheol halted. “They have cram school. Dammit! I should have got Jeonghan’s number. Then, I could’ve directly asked her what she’s wearing.”

“Idiot. I meant match with Jisoo. Send her a text. When are you meeting?”

“Why would I match with --? 4pm.”

“Good. She’ll text you back before that. You’re essentially going out with her, so play dress-up with her in mind. It’s her you’ll be dropping off at the station. Jeonghan will probably stay behind at her own place.” Before Seungcheol could counter argue, he heard a call for Soonyoung, who cut the call prematurely.

Fucking great. The call concluded with shit advice.

 

 

 

In the end, Seungcheol donned a jacket over a long-sleeved tee and a pair of jeans with doc martens. So much for impressive. The whole stressful morning of ‘what to wear’ culminated into a last-minute ditch effort, which _showed._ He hated life. 

At four p.m. sharp, he arrived at City Hall station. As promised, Jisoo and Jeonghan were already there, talking a mile a minute. Girls and their ability to never shut up. Wow. From this distance, he could clearly observe the height difference between the taller Jeonghan and shorter Jisoo. _Cute._

Jisoo certainly put effort into her appearance. Her white dress reached her knees, which were covered with black thigh-high socks that disappeared into a pair of boots. Her usually pleated hair was undone, losing itself into a raven-coloured overcoat. A black bag slung across her front. “All this black, you’re a devil, Hong Jisoo,” grinned Seungcheol. She responded with giggles and a playful shrug.

As if to contrast her best friend, Jeonghan stood in a plain pink sweater with supreme written on the sleeves and a pair of skinnies. She carried a backpack the size of an A4 textbook. To Seungcheol’s disappointment, her hair was in a ponytail. To his excitement, they matched pretty well. “Hello to you, too,” Jeonghan smirked. _Fuck._ Seungcheol’s fingers would fall off some day.

It did not take long to reach their destination. The name turned out pretty corny: ‘Elite Curtains & Drapery Ltd. Co.’. “You can laugh,” Jeonghan said from beside him. “It’s nothing others haven’t done before. Initially Jisoo pretended it didn’t bother her but her true nature surfaced.”

“Devil,” Seungcheol muttered brightly, casting said girl a glance. “There’s difference between curtains and drapes?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think you’ll be dabbling in this business so leave it be,” laughed Jeonghan.

Upon entrance to the shop, she immediately escaped their company. “Sewon can show you the catalogue. I’ll go change.” A small wave of darkness crashed into the shores of his expectant heart; coldness turning anticipation into disappointment.

“She’ll be back,” whispered Jisoo. “Now,” she said more loudly, “Time to browse the collection.” Her evident eagerness drew out warmth from Seungcheol’s heart to form a huge grin.

 

 

 

They flipped through a whole lot of pages. The name Jeonghan had taken belonged to a female salesperson, whose beam fell into a thin line post Jeonghan’s departure. _Cruel world. All about power and authority._ The gloomy salesperson explained the detailing and fabric used in every curtain. According to her, box pleats were suitable for more formal occasions while goblet pleats glammed up entire venues. Jisoo chose a style of pleats called eyelet which strongly resembled hospitals. When Seungcheol said as much, she rebutted with a ‘that’s the point’ and moved onto fabrics. _Crazy dork, Hong Jisoo._

“Can you show us some lighter ones? We don’t want anything too bulky.” Seungcheol could only smile at how seriously Jisoo was considering her options. “Maybe lace? Ooh! There’s silk? No, that’s heavy huh. I think Jeonghan said polyester would do. Cheol, what do you think?”

Seungcheol’s preoccupation with Jisoo’s enthusiasm resulted in a delayed response, “Uhh, how about these?” He pointed out an image of long, almost sheer fabric that stretched from the top of a window to the bottom of the wall.

They leafed through entire books. Once in a while, Jisoo became enraptured with a specific curtain, only to find out it was made of velvet or the colour she wanted was out of stock. There were some that looked great in pictures but clearly good photography skills masked the actual substandard quality. (Seungcheol felt sorry for forming negative opinions about something related to Jeonghan.) This one coffee-coloured, lace curtains struck the fancy of both Seungcheol and Jisoo. Unfortunately, its length was too long for a classroom door. 

In the end, after much contemplation, three options remained. They opted for a pastel blue, linen curtain that pleated into eyelets at the top.

 

 

 

Jeonghan appeared right after they paid. _Oh._ A quick check at his phone informed Seungcheol that she had vanished for an entire hour and a half. He made a remark about how slowly she changed, to which she shrugged mysteriously. Well. Was shrugging some ‘bestie’ gesture or something?

Excusing herself with ‘an abundance of consolidation exercises awaits my return’, Jeonghan bid the duo farewell, promising to meet at school. Jisoo rolled her eyes and answered that neither Seungcheol nor her were going to step a foot into the library. _Actually…_ His brain sometimes produced lightbulbs that generally would not fit into the sockets of his home.

In hindsight, it sucked that Seungcheol met Jeonghan for maybe five minutes, but also in hindsight, it turned out an agreeable afternoon. Even if he did hate carrying a bag of curtains that he deemed absolutely unnecessary.

“Wanna eat something?” he offered when they arrived a shop away from the station. A detour to a mall was still plausible.

Jisoo's eyes widened slightly, lips pursing into a small circle.  _Too random?_ Her brows scrunched up in deep thinking while her eyes darted around. Hands running along the shape of her bag strap, she said, “Depends. Anything in mind?”

“Churros in Hongdae?” grinning, Seungcheol led the way to the station. “They have good sangyeopsal too. Or Shake Shack. That works, but we’d have to go elsewhere.”  _Ah, he was getting hungry now. How much time did they spend in that shop?_

Jisoo followed, “I haven’t even agreed. And I choose churros. Mind helping me see a pair of Fila?” She sounded carefree all of a sudden – she could've mentioned earlier if she'd been hungry. Seungcheol should seriously talk to her about stating her own feelings. 

“What am I? Your boyfriend?” he chuckled, slowing down so they could walk side by side.

She put out her arms to take the bag. “Say more and I’ll use black magic to make you my slave.”

“More.” He wondered if she could handle the heaviness, but trusting Jisoo couldn't hurt. 


	10. Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am no musician. Or curtain specialist.

“That’s you?” 

Seungcheol rose unexpectedly and swung around the table to sit next to Jisoo. She moved a little to her right, exclaiming, “What’s with the move?” He merely beamed.

“That’s you,” he said. The grin that split his face into two _hurt._ He low key wished someone would bash his head with something heavy so his senses would return. But, since nothing of the sort occurred, he tolerated the pain. _Wise words:_ _no pain, no gain._ “You look like a rabbit. A fucking rabbit.”

“Jisoos Christ. You moved to make fun of me in closer proximity, and I’m the devil.” Seungcheol nodded vehemently.

After helping Jisoo select a pair of white sports shoes lined with green at the bottom – Adidas, not Fila – they found a Chinese restaurant tucked between a karaoke bar and a chicken restaurant. Once the dishes had arrived, they gobbled up their bowls of jjamppong and jjjajangmyeon. Exceptionally rich in flavour, Seungcheol thought the texture of his jjajjang noodles could have been less chewy. Other than that, the side dishes sufficed, kimchi more sour than spicy, which Seungcheol preferred. If he’d been less concerned with Jisoo’s gallery of abundant photos, he would have been tempted to order a plate of tangsuyuk for tasting.

“Cheol,” whined Jisoo. “Your turn! You saw all _my_ childhood photos.”

“I don’t keep them on my phone,” he chuckled.

Seungcheol hated his childhood pictures. He hated the baby photos, loathed the family portraits and felt grateful that he enjoyed sufficient autonomy to determine what his SD card stored. He wished he could disclose to Jisoo the fuckery that was his family, but her phone gallery was testament to how lovingly her parents had raised her.

A couple of his friends knew about his situation. To Soonyoung whom he’d known since elementary school, almost nothing remained a secret. With Jihoon who shared a similar fate, it only strengthened the foundation of their friendship. Hansol struggled with his family portrait too: of external perspectives on a biracial relationship. Mingyu, meanwhile, suffered from familial expectations. (The last of this group could still go and suck a stinky dick for all of Seungcheol’s worries.)

“Who can go and suck a stinky what?” Jisoo startled Seungcheol with her question.

He stared for some seconds before shaking himself out of stupor. Apologising, he shrugged off her worried expression, reassuring her (albeit feebly) that he was not talking about Kim Mingyu. She _actually rolled her eyes_. Hell.

Seungcheol had to break into surprised laughter.

(Mingyu could seriously go and suck a dick.)

 

 

 

He shut his eyes, prayed to every deity and god whose names he could recall and stepped inside.  _Fuck._

The problem with his ‘father’ was that the old man demanded attention. His ‘mother’ stirred up a lot of commotion that befit her theatrical nature, yet let him escape as her thoughts did not truly extend to him. Unlike Mrs. Choi, Mr. Choi maintained low levels of volume but added greater weight to each word. He cared less for Seungcheol’s grades, and instead obsessed over his aspirations as a band guitarist. Maybe in another household, in a more functional family, this attention translated as support. However, for Seungcheol who’d been reared in this toxic environment of ostentatious gloats and hollow compliments, the matter stood clear: driving him towards a path of fame and celebrity status would be more extravagant than forcing him to study some business course. Higher risk, higher returns.

This high-speed train of thought jumped through a time space hole and crashed into the Great Wall of China when he spotted his brother and Mrs. Choi as well. The latter two still had their shoes on.

Mr. Choi sent him a nod, to which he responded similarly. All four of them like this? The last time they’d had any sort of reunion was his brother’s high school graduation. They’d only attended because the bastard had snagged the title of valedictorian with a pass for SNU.

“We have an announcement,” Mrs. Choi said. _Huh?_ She sounded almost…tired? The usual coldness and indifference were lacking.

From his position, Seungcheol could see his brother was confused too. Taking in the latter’s appearance, he clearly had rushed over, sweat beading exposed skin. It was spring. Sure the weather had warmed up considerably since February, but to sweat indicated a condensed sprint covering a ten-minute distance.

“We’re getting a divorce,” it was Mr. Choi who made the revelation. “Don’t worry about custody. The procedures will begin once Seungcheol comes of age."

 

 

 

They left. None of them stayed behind. Mrs. Choi was upset over alimony matters. Mr. Choi gave not a single hoot. His brother ruffled his hair and patted his shoulder before closing the door as quietly as possible.

He did not cry. He was not crying either. He wasn’t upset. He wasn’t _sad_. The overwhelming relief pushed out a wave of tears but Seungcheol couldn’t care less. He was a man. But relief did that. Nelson Mandela probably cried after his release from jail too. Seungcheol was experiencing the same happiness. That was all.

As a kid, the idea of an actor being different from a character was considered preposterous. As a pre-teen, the idea of your favourite singer being different from their image was bullshit. For Seungcheol, these had never been ideas. Who his parents presented themselves as had always been very distinct from who they were. He seldom rebelled against nannies and babysitters, even going as far as extending a childish form of hospitality to them. He was aware early on that they were employees, not guardians. He was aware that birth givers were not equal to _parents._ He understood in middle school -- when Jihoon and he snuck in alcohol into school grounds and downed a couple shots in a cramped toilet – that happy homes were a rarity.

He was fine. He was okay, a little shocked. He harboured no special connection with either Mr. Choi or (very soon) Ms. Heo. This family had always been a hoax. Now, the genuineness would be born from the impending divorce. 

 

 

 

Monday proved rather fine. The sun painted the world in glowy brightness; clouds so full and vibrantly white that Seungcheol wanted to pick some and keep for himself. Today, he strolled leisurely. In a once in a blue moon moment, he’d woken up half an hour early – and couldn’t fall asleep despite clamping shut his bleary eyes. 

In his arms was the bag of curtains from yesterday. He’d also shoved a collection of action figures into his school bag. Jisoo and he had no proper framework for how they were decorating the classroom. With the curtains and cream wallpaper (to be supplied by Hansol’s artist parents), the café would seem rather chill with a poppy edge. But with the action figures and gory posters plastered all over the wall…Was Jisoo honestly permitting him to ruin the magical princess-y image she’d envisioned? Did any of this correspond to a picture of a jazz café? _Aw man…What a headache…_

By the time he arrived at the classroom, sleepiness had captured Seungcheol again. He should have taken the bus.

Hansol reminded him of Wonwoo’s audition this evening. In absence of a proper answer, he was asked, “Dude, you alright?” Seungcheol shrugged it off. If only the goddess of sleep had been kinder to him this morning.

 

 

 

Today, Soonyoung came without Jun. “She’s with her boyfriend,” sulked the girl. 

Much as Seungcheol had been taken aback, the rest of the group displayed signs of shock as well. Jihoon went as far as knocking down his chopsticks.

“She’s so nice,” said Seokmin. Soonyoung, albeit absolutely annoyed at Jun, directed a most judgemental stare at him. “I mean, um. Aren’t you scared she won’t be treated well,” he winced. Seungcheol felt bad but there were lines that could not be crossed, especially with Soon. 

“Yo, yo, yo. Let’s not judge. Who’s the boyfriend?” said Hansol. _He missed the point._

Soonyoung did not stop glaring at Seokmin, and addressed him first, “Jun is innocent, so if anyone ever, _ever insinuates_ things about her, I will send him flying with a roundabout kick.” Then, removing sight from him, said, “that Jeon Wonwoo – she’s been into him for a while but – he can’t just…come and _steal_ my best friend away!” She raised her arms in a huff and dropped them in a puff. Looking at Jisoo, she whined, “Sooooooo, heal my broken heart!”

“Chicken,” Jisoo lifted up a chicken leg. “Chicken heals my heart. Have this.”

Seokmin guffawed, hitting Jisoo on the shoulder out of disbelief. Hansol’s initially bewildered expression changed into amusement as he participated in their antics. Seungcheol did not register Soonyoung and Jihoon’s reactions because he left right afterwards.

Today was fine but kind of strange. But he shouldn’t dwell on it. Maybe the library would be a good place to visit.

 

 

 

Situated on the highest floor of the building, the library faced the large staff room. Relatively spacious, it was divided into two parts: study room and the actual library full of books. He slunk into the latter area.

Books didn’t hold a place in his life, but at this moment, the sight of them brought tranquillity. Caressing the spine of a random book, a sense of serenity overtook. It was so tangible, this item. Hardcover, mahogany, a little bigger than the other items on the shelf. He traced the name: _Me Before You_. English. He pulled it out and saw a Korean title as well. _Ah._ He was in the translated books section.

In the midst of reading the synopsis, Seungcheol was disturbed by a startled noise. He nodded at the intruder: Wonwoo. He half-expected a verbal reply but received an identical nod and nothing more. _True Introvert, huh?_  Not feeling like conversing (not that Wonwoo seemed interested), Seungcheol put back the book and left to observe book shelves on the other side.

Humanities. Religion, philosophy, history, geography, even political sciences. They possessed no appeal in tempting him. Supporting himself against a wall, he scanned the shelves. Appealing or not, the whole collection managed to calm him. Why was he feeling so shit today? He glanced out the windows – a clear day. Sunny skies, fluffy white clouds. What a ‘blue’ day. He couldn’t remember a sky so blue – light radiating off of the sun to brighten up the sky to be so blue.

Blue.

 

 

 

He deflected any questions regarding his hasty flight earlier. Seungcheol himself had no proper answer. While he could feel the worrying glances Jisoo gave him throughout their afternoon lessons, he had no intention of addressing her concerns.

“Jisoo, stop,” he whispered eventually. It was the last class of the day. The boredom was killing him, and his new friend’s peeks bothered him.

She obeyed. Her head stopped turning. He felt a tad sorry. But today, his emotions were a little too muted for him to feel very sorry.

 

 

 

Jihoon was pissing him off.

“The chord we’re playing is C major. It’s the easiest fucking shit—”

“He’s doing alrigh—”

“Don’t fucking tell me what’s wrong and right! He’s fucking up the notes!”

“I’ll tell you what’s right and what’s wrong if you act like a prick! He’s switching it up so it doesn’t sound like your boring compositions!”

“Yo, c’mon, gu—”

“I don’t give a fuck! _I_ arranged this cover, which means _I_ choose!”

“You don’t give a – it’s fucking obvious that you don’t! We’re not your punching bags that you hit whenever you want to throw a tantrum!”

“You’re throwing a tantrum! You’re not even on tempo!”

“You’re both throwing tantrums!”

“That’s because you’re a childish, shit-tempered midget who glares for no damned reason!”

“Because this slouching ass over here can’t follow a simple instruction while you mess up the fucking rhythm!”

“Duuudes! This is an audition and I think _he’s_ about to _not_ choose _us_!”

Possibly the first time ever, Seungcheol chose to flee from the increasingly tense battlefield. He kicked over a table on his way out, slamming the door so harshly that the sound rang in his ears until halfway back home.

_Shit. Shit. Shit. Dammit!_

At least Hansol would take care of his amp...right? Nothing was concrete today. Seungcheol wanted to hurl. He wanted to hurt and inflict pain on others. Today, everything was washed out. It sickened him. Seungcheol could not deal with a faded version of emotions. He liked to feel. He liked to feel things strongly. _Dammit!_ Two days ago, nerves and flutters pumped inside his veins. Two days ago, the world was abuzz with vibrancy. _Dammit._  

_Fucking dammit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally hit the 10-chapter mark woot woot
> 
> original plan: 30 chapters - however, it might be longer with the direction it's headed rn - family drama was not in the original plan - the fic is controlling me - since this is part of a universe, ik i should flesh out the minor characters but me, being me: amateur ho who nvr sits down and trains her craft, is struggling - this is awkward to admit (idky) but i've put in hints of the incoming stories since a while back - i hope it works out - also, yes, while this story was always supposed to be cliched, it's becoming more so as i write - idk what to do 
> 
> that's how i type notes in my lectures lol ^


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